'■mmfi 



■m 



TH E ALAMO, 



AND 



OTHER POEMS. 



ORIGINAL AND COLLECTED. 



By SIMON KERL, 



2h= 




NEW YORK: 
PRINTED FOR THE AUTF 






Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1867, by 

SIMON KERL, 

in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for tta 
Southern District of New York. 



versity Press : Welch, Bigelow, & Co., 

Cambridge. 

I 







.>.:* 




PREFACE 




HE degree of excellence to which any- 
art rises in a community, depends very- 
much on the estimation in which that 
art is held by the public. Men of 
genius are generally so sensitive and moody that 
they constantly need the gentle and encouraging 
pressure of public favor, to hold them to their course, 
and make them flower into full glory. It is generally 
believed, at least by us, that our country offers the 
most genial home to all the arts ; but, whether it is 
from the usual inferiority of the stuff, from the slan- 
ders of ruthless critics, or from the total want of 
rhythm in the discordant nation itself, certain it is 
that the Muses do not seem to be among the fa- 
vored daughters of the Republic. Our booksellers 
declare that "poetry does not pay," — that "it is 
of no commercial value," — that "the publication 
of it is but a losing business"; and they have 
pretty well established the rule that whoever dares 
to stray from common sense into minstrelsy must 
pay for his own music, or bear all the expenses 



i v PREFACE. 

of publication. Newspapers and other periodicals 
seem to have crowded books almost out of the 
world ; and there is constantly kept up among us 
such a tumult, turmoil, and clamor in the frog-pond 
of politics, that the cicada of song can hardly be 
heard through the din. Perhaps no other people 
ever ran more rapidly and completely into prose, 
money-making, and political madness ; but when 
we shall have rode all hobbies to death, and run 
to the tail-end of every ism, we shall doubtless find 
leisure for such trifles as peace-making, the orna- 
mentation of our country, and the musical develop- 
ment of our national soul. The following poems 
are therefore published without sanguine expecta- 
tions of success, but yet without any cowardly fears 
about consequences. 

Of the pieces in particular, I have not much to 
say. Most of them were written during an interval 
of more than twelve years, and in the midst of other 
kinds of business ; but under the immediate pres- 
sure of feeling, and in very different moods of mind. 
The freshness and unusual variety thus imparted, 
will perhaps relieve the reader somewhat for the 
want of that greater excellence and high finish which 
are attainable only when a person can devote all his 
time and thoughts to the cultivation of a special 
art. All of the pieces, however, are designed to 
be cosmopolitan rather, than autobiographical, even 
when written in the first person. 



vi PRE FA CE. 

that every book of mine may tend to enlighten, im- 
prove, and elevate mankind, and perpetuate sound 
republican principles, rather than produce a con- 
trary effect. 

Besides, I must confess that I am not a great 
admirer of that over-fine and super-sensuous style of 
poetry, — that exquisite gossamer gilding, — which 
is now most in fashion, and which lies in words 
and manner more than in thoughts or invention. 
I believe that poetry should be robust; full of 
sense, feeling, and imagination, — as full of them, 
if possible, as an orange is of juice, — even if some 
of the lines, in consequence, are occasionally a 
little rough. And I also believe that inexact 
rhymes, if new, may be sometimes preferable to 
such cloying ones as "trees" and "breeze," "glows" 
and "flows," which were worn out long ago. Nev 
ertheless, I am aware that from an artistic point of 
view some of the following lines are open even to 
liberal criticism \ yet I hope the amount of what is 
faulty and trashy will not exceed the general aver- 
age of new publications. 

Whether the poems are all mine, or very nearly 
all mine, I shall not divulge at present ; but as our 
country is full of critics who pretend they can taste 
in the grafted fruit the very stock on which it is 
grafted, and who, from their prejudices, can so read- 
ily find dislikes even at planetary distance, I shall 
politely leave it first with them to decide what is 
what, and which is which. 



PREFACE. v 

The first poem was written while I was a minor, 
and it is therefore a little more eulogistic of war 
than my present principles, and views of civilization, 
would approve. The next poem, " Types of Life," 
was written at melancholy intervals, during several 
years of depression, from which it may have re- 
ceived something of a lugubrious air. It is de- 
signed to diminish that excessive concern and anx- 
iety which most people give themselves about this 
world, and which is so great a source of tyranny, 
injustice, and unhappiness. It also aims to show 
every phasis of human life, and has more meaning 
in it than is apparent on the surface. The satirical 
poems are of course designed only for those who 
deserve them ; and I hope no guiltless or meritori- 
ous person w r ill feel aspersed by any such verses. 
A long and severe poem on the times has been 
omitted from patriotic motives ; and the omitted 
lines in the last poem are not indelicate ones, but 
such as have been omitted from the same motives. 
Some of the printed lines are perhaps a little 
coarser than the taste of the present age justifies ; 
but who does not despise feeble writing ? and why 
should not an author be governed by universal hu- 
man nature, truth, and consistency, rather than by 
what may be simply the fashion of his day? "Books," 
said Milton, "should be written for the good of 
man and the glory of God." I have no hankering 
for either money or fame ; but I earnestly wish 



CONTENTS. 



» 

Page 

Storming of the Alamo 9 

Types of Life 69 

Lily of the Valley 97 

The Blue-Birds 99 

Galveston 102 

swannanoa 10/ 

View from Mount Adams in 

A Query 115 

The Curl cut from my Temple . . . .117 

Primeval Texan Scenery 119 

Fragments 156 

To Flora 161 

Eyes 162 

Winter 163 

On the Blue Ridge 165 

The two Twilights 168 

The Despair of Grief 171 

Mutability 173 

The Mississippi 183 

What is it to be Gifted? .... 189 



\ 

\ 



viii CONTENTS. 

A Day on Mount Lookout 193 

To Flora 210 

Want of Money 212 

Ode to Debt 215 

To Flora 223 

To Flora 227 

To Flora . . .228 

Kate 230 

An Autumn Sunset on the Moreau . . . 232 

Spiritual Rappings 235 

The White Rose of Alabama .... 240 

The Two Trees 249 

Glasgow 251 

The Secession of Virginia 256 

National Hymn 263 

The Rally 266 

The Monroe Doctrine 270 

Brother Jonathan's Lament and Prayer . 271 

Civil War 291 

General Kearney 299 

Ode to Health 305 

My Bible 307 

To Flora 310 

The Broadway Widow 312 

Burns 314 

Flora 318 

Lines to Laura 321 

A Leaf of Autobiography 324 

Portrait of a Politician 332 







|fc39! 



STORMING OF THE ALAMO. 1 



" Mortalia tangunt mentem." — Virgil. 




HE boding day had gently sunk to 

rest 
Behind the glowing curtains of the 
west ; 
A holy stillness reigned, as if above 
The blest looked down in sympathy and love ; 
Night slow drew o'er, to wrap the world in 

sleep ; 
And o'er the plains, like o'er the mighty deep, 
Rose the full moon, and proudly soared on 

high, 
Along the clear and silver-dappled sky ; 



10 STORMING OF THE ALAMO. 

Soft from the Gulf, o'er flowers, the breezes 

came, 
And softer purled the bloodless fountain 2 

stream ; — 
But on its banks the brave were soon to die, 
For dooming waved the blood-red banner nigh, 
That spoke the unsparing vengeance of the foe 
Against the patriots in the Alamo ; 
A band who 'd rather mingled with the dust 
Than failed to meet their country's sacred trust. 

On their resistance hung a nation's fate, 
The strife did thousands anxiously await ; 
From west to east, from mountain to the 

strand, 
Had war and desolation roused the land ; 
The farmer's home in smoking ruins lay, 
Or else to famine, Indians, wolves, a prey ; 
And Fannin's 3 massacre — alas ! for shame ! 
A bloodier deed ne'er damned a tyrant's name. 



STORMING OF THE ALAMO. u 

Dense in the west the hostile forces lay, 
Like brooding tempest on a summer's day ; 
But most the camp-fires sent their lurid glow, 
Most pointed cannons, to the Alamo, 
And startled, now and then, the drowsy 

night, 
Like bursts of muffled thunder flashing bright ; 
While forth the tyrant drew his war array, 
To crush the patriots ere the dawn of day. 

The Texan leader and his faithful band, 
With persevering and intrepid hand, 
Threw earth against the Alamo's frail walls, 
To break the force of hostile cannon-balls ; 
Till, much fatigued, the most themselves re- 
posed, 
And soothing sleep soon every eye had closed — 
Not ev'n the sentry's utmost will could keep 
His watch-worn self from being absorbed in 
sleep. 



12 STORMING OF THE ALAMO. 

But short their rest ; for ere the coming morn — 
Sweet Sabbath morn — began the east to 

adorn, — 
Just as above the horizon, from afar, 
In silent brilliance beamed the morning star, — 
The numerous and bloodthirsty foemen came 
With lance, and sword, and cannonading flame, 
Urged by the wrath that rankled in the breast 
Of Santa Anna — tyrant of the West. 

All trembling eager, still they move and swift, 
Their arms they draw, their scaling-ladders lift, 
When, lo ! the sentries' guns ! and 'larming cry, 
" They come, they come ! the Mexicans draw 

nigh ! " 
And, roused from sleep, the valiant Travis cries, 
" To arms, to arms ! brave comrades ! — Wake ! 

arise ! 
Rush forth to battle — life is but a breath — 
To glorious victory, or to glorious death ! " 



STORMING OF THE ALAMO. I3 



Up, like a mine, spring fierce the patriots all, 
And in an instant have they cleared the wall ; 
Again the foe in heavier mass rush on, 
Again in triumph are they slaughtered down : 
But now, with ponderous battering-ram sup- 
plied, 
They make assault in one tremendous tide ; 
With thundering crash they burst the gateway 

in, 
And with loud yells the furious strife begin ; 
While others scale, all round, the castle's height, 
And everywhere begins the murderous fight. 

With horrid sound, swords, spears, and bayo- 
nets clash, 

And here and there gapes wide the mortal gash ; 

Full many a vein pours out the warm life red, 

And heaps of dying strive o'er heaps of dead ; 

Full many a proud form, fierce with martial 
glow, 



14 



STORMING OF THE ALAMO. 



At once drops wilted by some thrust or blow ; 
And soldier beside soldier sinks to ground, 
Weltering in the blood that flows around. 

Now fiercer yet goes the dark carnage on, 
With dying calls to God, and tugging groan ! 
The Texans bravely still their ground main- 
tain, — 
In ramparts heaped, around them lie the slain ; 
True to themselves, their country, and their 

gods, 
They never bend, however great the odds ; 
And, scorning to be galled by captive chains, 
They fight till not a spark of life remains, — 
Till every one by mortal wounds sinks low, 
In battling with an overwhelming foe ! 

Thus fought brave Travis and his Spartan band, 
Thus gave their lives to save their chosen land ; 
Thus Crockett * fell, — a braver man than he 



STORMING OF THE ALAMO. 15 



Ne'er fought for right, or dared for liberty ; 
Thus Bowie, too, of chivalry the boast, 
Fell like a panther 'mid the storming host ; 
Thus many a Texan, noble, young, and brave, 
Found in the Al'mo an untimely grave. 

O for an arm from Heaven to save the brave, 
When wrong and power crush them to the 

grave ! 
O for a thunderbolt of mortal power, 
To smite the tyrant in his triumph hour ! 
Sure angels weep, if angels weep at all, 
When truth and freedom with the patriot fall ! 

All business ceased, the towns in silence lay, 
Men brooded deep in vengeance and dismay, 
And naught was heard save woman's wail o c 

woe, 
As spread the tidings from the Alamo. 
Ah ! many a wife was made a widow there, 



1 6 STORMING OF THE ALAMO. 

And many a maid bereft of lover dear ; s 
And still the sister's tears and orphan's flow 
For those who sleep within the Alamo. 
Though now, like saints, they rest beneath the 

soil, 
For which so oft they bore campaign and toil. 
No more they heed the Indian battle-yells, 
The blazing cannons, or the bursting shells, 6 
The bugle's martial, animating blast, 
Or clashing swords and thrusts that seek the 

breast. 

But they have won the patriot's highest aim, — 
Their land's deliverance and immortal fame ; 
And though they perished while they fought so 

well, 
They now sleep victors where they fought and 

fell. 
Their country, and each patriot land beside, 
Shall think of them with gratitude and pride ; 



STORMING OF THE ALAMO. l? 

The traveller oft shall o'er their ashes pore, 
Recall their deeds, and love his country more ; i 
Earth to her flowerets there shall give a glow, 
With glory tinctured from the brave below ; 
Heaven's zephyrs, mourning, there shall fondly 



bring 



:mg ; 



The earliest fragrance of returning spri 

And through all time — while age on age shall 

flee — 
Their tomb shall stand a proud Thermopylae : 
For hallowed ever must their memory be 
Who gave their lives for law and liberty. 

Illustrious patriots ! if this worldly life, 
This mystic maze of error, blood, and strife. 
Yields one great soul that must triumphant 

rise, 
It is the hero's who for justice dies. 
What though crushed hopeless in his brave 

career, 



1 8 STORMING OF THE ALAMO. 

And hearsed without a coffin or a tear ; 
What though he fall a victim to the shroud, 
Before his country's rainbow spans the cloud, — 
Like sun and star the moral of his deed 
Shall live and shine. His wounds shall ever 

bleed ; 
And from each life-drop of the martyr slain 
The crimson flower of war shall bloom again. 
In hearts unborn, his cause, his thoughts, shall 

grow; 
The maid shall weep, the stripling catch the 

glow; 
The statesman's voice, the poet's heavenly lyre, 
Shall wake in nations his ethereal fire ; 
A generous world shall from the sacrifice 
To better thoughts and nobler actions rise ; 
And Heaven's high seraphs shall receive the 

guest, 
Forever honored and forever blest ! 



STORMING OF THE ALAMO. rg 



NOTES. 

Note i, page 9. 

^ The Alamo is an old Mission, situated in the 
city of San Antonio, in the western part of Tex- 
as. It was occupied in the spring of 1836, by 
Travis, Crockett, Bowie, and about one hundred 
and eighty kindred spirits, for the purpose of resist- 
ing the invasion of nearly six thousand Mexicans, 
commanded by Santa Anna himself. The defense,' 
though unsuccessful, probably saved, by the delay 
it caused, thousands of otherwise defenseless wo- 
men and children from disgrace and massacre; 
and it so weakened and intimidated the forces of 
Santa Anna, that he was afterwards easily defeated 
on the memorable plains of San Jacinto. The 
wonderful heroism and thrilling exploits of the de- 
fenders have rarely been equalled by any others of 
the human race ; and it may well make any people 
proud to know that men so heroic and patriotic 
were their countrymen. 

Note 2, page 10. 
And softer purled the bloodless fountain stream, etc. 
The San Antonio river rises a short distance 
above the city of San Antonio. It is formed at 



20 STORMING OF THE ALAMO. 

once by a large group of springs that burst forth, 
crystal clear, with a sufficient volume of water to 
make a river. To this river joins itself, immedi- 
ately afterwards, the Medina, a beautiful stream 
that comes purling out of the mountains. The 
San Antonio is lined with poplars, or a species of 
tree called in Spanish Alamo, whence the name 
of the fort. This whole section of country is, in 
scenery, soil, and climate, one of the most beauti- 
ful and desirable spots on the face of the earth. 

I hope the description of natural scenery with 
which the poem begins, will not seem, to the critics, 
out of place. During the present civil war I have 
ever noticed that battle and carnage seemed most 
terrible when Nature appeared in her greatest love- 
liness ; the dark and awful passage into death con- 
trasting more deeply with the silent brightness, 
bloom, and innocence of the beautiful world left 
forever behind. But the idea is probably better 
touched upon in an extract which I quote from the 
Edinburgh Review : — 

" ' Strange,' murmurs the dying invalid, looking 
out from his window upon the world, — ' strange ! 
how the beauty and mystery of all nature are 
heightened by the near prospect of that coming 
darkness which will sweep them all away ! The 
very limitation of the term of enjoyment has much 
to do with the exquisiteness of life's pleasures. It 
is the perishing blossom that is so pre-eminently 
beautiful.' " 



STORMING OF THE ALAMO. 2 \ 

Note 3, page 10. 
And Fannin's massacre — alas ! for s/iame ! 
A bloodier deed ne'er damned a tyranfs name. 

The introduction of this incident into the poem 
produces a slight anachronism, but probably not 
too great for poetic license. Fannin and his men, 
being altogether overpowered by numbers, surren- 
dered on condition that they were to be treated as 
prisoners of war, according to the usages of civil- 
ized nations. But after they were disarmed, Santa 
Anna gave orders to have them shot ; and they were 
accordingly murdered in cold blood ! More of the 
details of this massacre is given on the following 
pages. . 

The word Fannin I have written as I have found 
it printed in the historical documents of Texas ; 
but it should probably be Fanning, because this is 
a common name in the eastern part of the United 
States, and because a number of adventurers from 
Connecticut settled in the western part of Texas, 
having accompanied Austin, or followed in the 
wake of Austin, — a daring pioneer from Con- 
necticut, who founded Austin, the present capital 
of Texas. 

The dropping of g, from the ending ing, is so 
common a fault of pronunciation, that in the some- 
what illiterate back-woods it might easily pass into 
the spelling itself. 



22 STORMING OF THE ALAMO. 

Note 4, page 14. 
Thus Crockett fell : a braver man than he 
Ne'er fought for right, or dared for liberty. 

This was the celebrated David Crockett, who is 
almost as famous in the United States as Robin 
Hood in Great Britain ; though the character of 
Crockett stands far higher from the fact that he was 
perfectly honest, and acquired his reputation solely 
from the nobility of his manhood and the roman- 
tic nature of his adventures. 

Thus Bowie too, of chivalry the boast, 
Fell like a panther ''mid the storming host. 

This was Colonel James Bowie, the celebrated 
border brave after whom bowie-knives were named. 

I have preferred the American figure, "like a 
panther," to the more trite and euphonious Orien- 
tal figure, " like a lion." The panther is the most 
dreaded monster in the forests of our Southern 
States, and he grows unusually large and fierce in 
the wilds of Texas. 

Note 5, page 16. 

Ah ! many a wife was made a widow there, 
And many a maid bereft of lover dear. 

" He then approached Kate, kissed her, and 
leaped upon his horse. He tried to conceal his 
emotions by singing carelessly, — 

' Saddled and bridled and booted rode he, 
A plume in his helmet, a sword at his knee.' 



STORMING OF THE ALAMO. 23 

" The tremulous and plaintive voice of Kate 
took up the next two lines, which sounded like a 
prophecy : — 

' But home came the saddle, all bloody to see, 
And home came the steed, but home never came he ! ' 

I asked him whether he wanted any 

thing. ' Nothing,' he replied ; but drew a deep 
sigh that seemed to rend his heart, as he added, 
1 Poor Kate of Nacogdoches ! ' his eyes filling with 
tears, ' her words were prophetic, Colonel' He 
spoke no more, and a few minutes after died. Poor 
Kate ! who will tell this to thee ? " — Crockett's 
Advefitures in Texas. 



Note 6, page 16. 

No more they heed the Indian battle-yells, 
The blazing cannons, or the bursting shells. 

" Shells have been falling into the fort like hail to- 
day, but without effect." — Crockett's Adventures. 



Note 7, page 17. 

The traveller oft shall o'er their ashes pore, 
Recall their deeds, and love his country more. 

"The bodies of the slain were thrown by the 
Mexicans into a heap, in the centre of the Alamo, 
and burned ! " — Yoakum's History of Texas. 

" Little," says Dr. Johnson, " is that man to be 



24 STORMING OF THE ALAMO. 

envied whose patriotism would not gain force on 
the plains of Marathon, or whose piety would not 
grow warmer among the ruins of Iona." 

Much of the documentary and other primitive 
history of Texas, relating to the Alamo, is nearly 
lost. It is a pity that so interesting a part of 
American history as that in which ended the earth- 
ly career of those demigods of warfare and adven- 
ture, Crockett and Bowie, should be thus allowed 
to pass into oblivion. I hope the reader will there- 
fore pardon me for endeavoring to preserve, in the 
following pages, and in a little better dress, those 
fragments which have come into my possession. 
These fragments will also confirm the historical 
accuracy of the poem. But before I give them, it 
will be necessary to make, for the better understand- 
ing of the subject, a few remarks in regard to the 
cause of war and the character of the belligerents. 

Texas, many years ago, when it was a part of 
Mexico, was but thinly inhabited by whites ; and 
this population extended chiefly along the southern 
and the eastern part of the country. These inhab- 
itants were continually harassed by raids from the 
Comanche Indians, who were then a powerful tribe, 
inhabiting the northwestern part of the State. It 
was therefore determined by the white population 
to strengthen themselves as fast as possible ; and 
so a law was enacted by which a homestead of a 
Spanish league, or four thousand four hundred and 



STORMING OF THE ALAMO. 25 

forty-four acres of land, from any of the unoccu- 
pied territory, was granted to every white family 
that would emigrate to the State for permanent resi- 
dence. Attracted by so large a bounty, by the 
fertility of the soil, and by the delightful climate, 
many people from the different parts of the United 
States went to Texas, and became permanent set- 
tlers. In this way the white population soon be- 
came sufficiently strong to protect itself against the 
Indians. But now another trouble arose. Santa 
Anna, having become very powerful in Mexico, and 
aiming probably at royalty, set aside the established 
constitution, changed the republic of states into a 
" concentrated democracy," and had himself pro- 
claimed Dictator of it. All the states of Mexico 
acquiesced, except two, Zacatecas and Texas, which 
revolted. Zacatecas was soon subdued by the ar- 
mies of Santa Anna ; but Texas not only defeated 
Santa Anna, but captured him, and kept him pris- 
oner until her independence was established. Dur- 
ing this struggle the people of Texas suffered many 
and great hardships ; for both the Mexicans and 
the Indians were arrayed against them. They 
therefore appealed for help to the sympathy of their 
kindred in the United States ; and, as they were 
fighting for constitutional liberty against tyranny 
and an inferior grade of civilization, many of the 
bravest men in the United States promptly volun- 
teered to help them fight their battles. These men 



26 STORMLYG OF THE ALAMO. 

were called the " Volunteers from the States," or 
simply the " Volunteers " ; and among them were 
Crockett, Bowie, and most of the soldiers who first 
met the chief invading army of Mexicans on the 
western border of Texas. With these preliminary 
remarks, the following loose sketches will be in- 
telligible : — 

" Since the first provisional government went 
into operation, and especially since the surrender 
of the Alamo, the last Mexican post in the country, 
Texas had been, de facto, an independent state. 
She had, however, hitherto acknowledged a quali- 
fied dependence upon the federal government of 
Mexico, — such as the States of this Union owe to 
the general government ; and this dependence, so 
far from throwing off, she had carefully observed, 
and, indeed, striven to maintain, until the authority 
to which it was due no longer existed even in name. 

The people of Texas had now put forth their 
pretensions to the rank of an independent nation, 
and published them to the world in solemn form, 
not from vain pride, but from necessity. We shall 
not pause here to inquire into their right. The in- 
quiry can not be necessary, since the measure was 
forced upon them ; or if indeed there was an alter- 
native presented to them, and rejected with be- 
coming scorn, the people of Texas will never be 
reproached, by any citizen of the United States, for 
having rejected sugh an alternative : to him it must 



STORMING OF THE ALAMO. 



27 



appear that the motive was imperative. Had the 
measure been adopted a few months earlier, in the 
midst of the confidence inspired by the astonishing 
success which had crowned the efforts of a few 
armed citizens, it might have been pronounced a 
mere ebullition of pride, from which Texas would 
shrink in the day of trial, when threatened with real 
dangers, or overtaken by adverse fortune ; but 
never in the eyes of the world was she farther 
from independence than at the moment which was 
chosen to proclaim it. It was done in the face 
of the chief* whose right was thus disputed, and 
who was surrounded by a force that had been pro- 
nounced sufficient to crush the country at a blow, 
— a chief whose military career had hitherto been 
attended by unvaried success, and whose repeated 
victories had acquired for him the reputation of 
being the ablest general of the age, the ' Napoleon 
of the South.' However men may differ about 
the right or the expediency of a declaration of in- 
dependence by the people of Texas, all must re- 
spect the courage which called it forth in the face 
of those dangers which surrounded them. 

We have here anticipated, to some extent, the 
events of the second campaign. This seemed to 
be necessary, in order to bring down our history of 
the civil affairs of the country from the surrender 
of San Antonio by the Mexicans to the Texans. 

* Santa Anna. 



2 8 STORMING OF THE ALAMO. 

This event having closed the campaign, the 
Texan citizens, of whom the volunteer army was 
largely composed, returned to their homes ; and 
the forts of San Antonio and Goliad were left to 
be garrisoned by the volunteers coming in from the 
United States. Direct appeals had been made to 
their sympathies by various addresses from the 
Texan authorities at home, and from their agents in 
the United States. But the best and most effectual 
appeal was the simple fact that their brethren were 
doing battle, in the cause of liberty, against fearful 
odds. 

Finding that the enemy had already been driven 
from the country, and no certain intelligence that 
he was about to return, and finding also that 
their support would be a heavy burden to the 
people, many of the Volunteers, and especially 
those who were unprovided with means for their 
own support, returned to the United States before 
the opening of the campaign. Of those who re- 
mained, a portion were scattered through the coun- 
try, waiting a demand for their services ; but the 
greatest portion joined the garrisons at San Antonio 
and Goliad ; the Texans still remaining at their 
homes, waiting also a call for their services. 

Continual rumors were afloat during the winter, 
that the Mexican chief was preparing to invade the 
country ; and reports frequently came that he had 
already entered it, and was advancing upon San 



STORMING OF THE ALAMO. 2 g 

Antonio. Alarm and preparation followed, which 
soon subsided on a contradiction of the report. 
Rumors were also afloat of commotions and insur- 
rections in different parts of Mexico ; and many 
people believed, that, in the unsettled state of the 
country, Santa Anna could neither invade Texas 
himself, nor spare any considerable force for that 
purpose. 

In this state of things an expedition against 
Matamoras was much discussed among the Volun- 
teers, and for this purpose most of those at San 
Antonio were drawn to Goliad. Colonel James W. 
Fannin, a brave and accomplished officer, who com- 
manded at the latter place, finding the expedition 
disapproved by the authorities of Texas, declined 
to proceed. But Colonels Grant and Johnson, not- 
withstanding, determined to go on with about one 
hundred Volunteers, who were willing to accompany 
them. About the last of February they had reached 
the neighborhood of San Patricio ; and, having nei- 
ther seen an enemy nor heard of any, they were 
moving carelessly on, unsuspicious of danger, 
when they were surprised by a large force, — the 
van of the right division of the invading army, 
— and nearly all cut off. Colonel Johnson, with 
two or three others, escaped, and brought the first 
intelligence of the approach of the enemy. 

At this time the whole Texan force in the field 
did not exceed five hundred men ; and an army of 



30 



STORMING OF THE ALAMO. 



eight thousand Mexicans, in two divisions, had 
already advanced far into the country, and was 
rapidly approaching the settlements. At least, such 
was the rumor that reached San Felipe and spread 
over the country about the first of March. The 
effect of this report upon the minds of the Texan 
people was neither what it ought to have been, nor 
what might have been expected, in view of the 
heroic courage which had been exhibited in the last 
campaign. So much may be said in general terms. 
But the degree of censure to which they are justly 
liable, will best appear from a detail of the princi- 
pal facts and circumstances, which may be supposed 
to have exerted an important, not to say controlling, 
influence over their minds at the time. The events 
of the last campaign, so flattering to themselves 
and so discreditable to their enemies, were little 
calculated to stimulate to vigorous effort in prepar- 
ing against another attack. That vigilance which 
keeps a wakeful eye upon the slightest movement 
of an enemy, the sure precursor of success in war, 
had been lulled asleep by too much confidence in 
their own prowess, and too great contempt for 
their enemy. From the proneness of the human 
mind to fly from one extreme to the other, there 
was now great danger that this high-wrought con- 
fidence would be succeeded by a panic ; and 
unhappily for the Texans, there were now too 
many circumstances to aid in producing such a 



STORMING OF THE ALAMO. 3I 

result. It was certain that the enemy, in great 
force, had reached the very threshold of the settle- 
ments, while the people of these settlements were 
wholly unprepared to meet them. This invading 
force, which, even when truly represented, must in 
their condition have been sufficiently appalling, was 
variously exaggerated ; different reports making it 
from ten to twenty thousand men. The offended 
chief had come with the declared intention, if he 
found resistance, to spare neither age nor sex, but 
to lay the country in utter desolation ; and, as an 
earnest of his sincerity, he had come with his hands 
yet stained with the blood of Zacatecas. 

He had advanced thus far with a celerity, which, 
from the condition of the country, would have been 
deemed scarcely practicable. His arrival, therefore, 
in the heart of the settlements, might be almost 
daily expected. And should the men of the settle- 
ments now leave their homes to meet him in the 
field, uncertain of his progress or of his course, their 
families, with no one to give notice of his approach 
or to aid them in flight, might fall a prey to worse 
than savage barbarity. 

That Santa Anna in person would presume to 
leave Mexico, when so recently seated in power, and 
still having so many powerful elements of opposition 
against him at home, or that in the impoverished 
state of the country he could obtain sufficient re- 
sources to support a large force at home and bring 



32 STORMING OT THE ALAMO. 

another across land into Texas, had been deemed 
incredible by many ; and not a few of the intelli- 
gent men in the United States, as well as in Texas, 
had partaken of this incredulity. To accomplish 
it, required, indeed, the power to extract from the 
country its resources for some years in anticipation. 

But even if all the circumstances of Santa An- 
na's coming had been known, saving the time, 
which he could easily conceal, the Texans — sepa- 
rated as the countries were by hundreds of miles 
of almost untrodden wilds, and all intercourse pro- 
hibited by land or water — could not have had the 
resources to keep themselves constantly in the field, 
to await his approach. It was difficult, even while 
at home on their farms, to subsist the small force 
then in the field. They could only have concen- 
trated this force, kept a sharp look-out, and rushed 
to the conflict when the enemy appeared. Had this 
been done, and had there been exerted such skill 
and intrepidity as were displayed in the last cam- 
paign, it is probable the historian of Texas might 
have been spared from recording events whose 
first recital was everywhere listened to with a chill 
of horror, which brought desolation and mourning 
into many families scattered over this whole conti- 
nent, and which came near extinguishing forever 
the newly risen star of Texas. 

It has been already remarked, that the invading 
army entered Texas in two divisions; the right, 



STORMING OF THE ALAMO. 33 

commanded by General Urea, was following the line 
of the coast, and advancing upon Goliad ; while 
the left, commanded by Santa Anna in person, was 
marching upon San Antonio by an exterior route. 
The van of the latter, consisting of more than a 
thousand men, arrived in the neighborhood of the 
town on the 23d of February. The Texan garri- 
son, numbering but one hundred and fifty men, 
mostly volunteers from the United States who had 
arrived in Texas since the beginning of the war, 
was commanded by Colonel W. B. Travis. 

The garrison, on discovering the approach of 
the enemy in so large a force, retired into the 
Alamo, carrying with them all the provisions they 
could collect, in order to be prepared for a siege. 
On the morning of the 23d of February, they re- 
ceived a summons from the Mexican commander, 
demanding a surrender of the fort, and threaten- 
ing, in case of refusal, to put the garrison to the 
sword. This was answered by a shot ; and a can- 
nonading now commenced on both sides, which 
was kept up, with perhaps a few intervals of repose, 
until the 6 th of March. In the mean time, on the 
side of the Mexicans, newly arrived bodies of 
troops were continually coming in, until, on the 3d 
of March, an army of four thousand men, with 
Santa Anna at its head, invested the fort, defended 
by the little band of volunteers before mentioned , 
aided now by the services of some thirty Tex*,i 



34 



STORMING OF THE ALAMO. 



citizens from Gonzales and its neighborhood, who 
had found their way into the fort since the enemy- 
had invested it. 

The measures adopted by Travis to apprise the 
authorities and people of Texas, and the com- 
mander at Goliad, of his situation, that they might 
hasten reinforcements to his relief, will best ap- 
pear from the subjoined letters. These letters 
contain also interesting details of the progress of 
the siege, and serve to exhibit the mind and spirit 
of the man who defended his country like the Spar- 
tan Leonidas. They constitute the only legacy 
of a brave man ; and the patriot soldier who would 
form himself upon the noblest model, needs not 
look beyond the letters and the example of Travis. 

Proclamaiio?i a?id Letter of Travis to the People of 
Texas, and all Americans in the World. 

COMMANDANCY OF THE ALAMO, 

Bexar, Feb. 24th, 1836. 
Fellow-Citizens and Compatriots : — 

I am besieged by a thousand or more of the 
Mexicans, under Santa Anna. I have sustained a 
continual bombardment and cannonade for twenty- 
four hours, and have not lost a man. The enemy 
have demanded a surrender at discretion ; otherwise 
the garrison is to be put to the sword, if the fort is 
taken. I have answered the summons with a can- 
non-shot, and our flag still waves proudly from the 



STORMING OF THE ALAMO. 35 

walls. / will never sicrrcnder or retreat. Then I 
call on you in the name of liberty, patriotism, and 
every thing dear to the American character, to come 
to our aid with all dispatch. The enemy are re- 
ceiving reinforcements daily, and will, no doubt, 
increase to three or four thousand in four or five 
days. Though this call may be neglected, I am 
determined to sustain myself as long as possible, 
and to die like a soldier who never forgets what is 
due to his honor and to that of his country. Vic- 
tory or Death ! 

W. BARRET TRAVIS, 

Lieut.- Col. Com. 
TO THE PRESIDENT OF THE CONVENTION. 

COMMANDANCY OF THE ALAMO, 

Bexar, March 3d, 1836. 
Sir, — In the present confusion of the political 
authorities of the country, and in the absence of 
a commander-in-chief, I beg leave to communi- 
cate to you the situation of this garrison. You 
have doubtless received my official report of the 
action on the 25th ult, made on that day to General 
Samuel Houston, together with the various commu- 
nications heretofore sent by express ; I shall there- 
fore confine myself to what has transpired since 
that date. From the 25th of the last month, the 
enemy have kept up a bombardment from two 
howitzers, and a heavy cannonade from two long 



36 STORMING OF THE ALAMO. 

nine-pounders, mounted on a battery, on the oppo- 
site side of the river, at the distance of four hun- 
dred yards west ; in Laviletta, three hundred yards 
south ; at the powder-house, one thousand yards 
east of south ; on the ditch, eight hundred yards 
northeast ; and at the old mill, eight hundred yards 
north. Notwithstanding all this, a company of 
thirty-two men from Gonzales made their way in to 
us on the morning of the ist inst, at three o'clock ; 
and Colonel Bonham, a courier from Gonzales, got 
in this morning at eleven o'clock, without molesta- 
tion. 

I have so fortified this place that the walls are 
generally proof against cannon-balls, and I still con- 
tinue to intrench on the inside, and to strengthen 
the walls by throwing up the earth. At least two 
hundred shells have fallen inside of our works with- 
out having injured a single man. Indeed, we have 
been so fortunate as not to lose a man from any 
cause, and we have killed many of the enemy. 
The spirits of my men are still high, although they 
have had much to depress them. We have con- 
tended for ten days against an enemy whose num- 
bers are variously estimated at from fifteen hundred 
to six thousand men, with General Ramirez Siesma 
and Colonel Bartres, the aides-de-camp of Santa 
Anna, at their head. A report was circulated that 
Santa Anna himself was with the enemy ; but I 
think it false. A reinforcement of about one 



STORMING OF THE ALAMO. 37 

thousand men is now entering Bexar from the west ; 
and I think it more than probable, from the rejoic- 
ing we hear, that Santa Anna is now in town. 

Colonel Fannin is said to be on the march to this 
place, with reinforcements ; but I fear it is not true, 
as I have repeatedly sent to him for aid without re- 
ceiving any. Colonel Bonham, my special messen- 
ger, arrived at La Bahia fourteen days ago, with a 
request for aid ; and on the arrival of the enemy in 
Bexar, ten clays ago, I sent an express to Colonel 
Fannin, which arrived at Goliad next clay, urging 
him to send us reinforcements. None have yet 
arrived. I look to the colonies alone for aid ; and 
unless it arrives soon, I shall have to fight the ene- 
my on their own terms. I will, however, do the 
best I can under the circumstances; and I feel 
convinced that the determined valor and desperate 
courage heretofore evinced by my men will not fail 
them in the last struggle ; and, although they may 
be sacrificed to the vengeance of a savage foe, the 
victory will cost the enemy so dear that it will be 
worse to them than a defeat. I hope your honora- 
ble body will hasten on reinforcements, ammuni- 
tion, and provisions to our aid, as soon as possible. 
We have provisions for twenty days, for the men we 
have. Our supply of ammunition is limited ; and 
at least five hundred pounds of cannon-powder, 
two hundred rounds of six, nine, twelve, and eigh- 
teen pound cannon-balls, ten kegs of rifle-powder, 
and a supply of lead, should be sent to this place 



38 STORMING OF THE ALAMO. 

without delay, and have a sufficient guard. If 
these things be promptly sent, and if large rein- 
forcements be hastened to this frontier, this neigh- 
borhood will be the great and decisive battle- 
ground. The power of Santa Anna is to be met 
here or in the colonies. We had better meet it 
here, than to suffer a war of desolation to rage in 
our settlements. A blood-red banner waves from 
the church in Bexar, and in the camp above us, in 
token that the war is one of vengeance against 
rebels ; for they have declared us such, and de- 
manded that we should surrender at discretion, or 
that this garrison should be put to the sword. 
Their threats have had no influence on me or my 
men, but to make all fight with desperation, and 
that high-souled courage which characterizes the 
patriot who is willing to die in defense of his coun- 
try's liberty and his own honor. 

The citizens of this municipality are all our ene- 
mies, except those who have joined us heretofore ; 
and we have but three Mexicans in the fort. Those 
who have not joined us in this extremity, should be 
declared public enemies, and their property should 
aid in paying the expenses of the war. The bearer 
of this will give your honorable body a statement 
more in detail, should he escape through the ene- 
my's lines. God a?id Texas, liberty or death ! 
Your obedient servant, 

W. BARRET TRAVIS, 

Lieut.- Col Com. 



STORMING OF THE ALAMO. 39 

No other communications from the lamented 
Travis or any of his associates ever reached the 
authorities or people of Texas. Many fancy sketches 
of the further progress of the siege, and the con- 
duct of individuals that composed the garrison, 
have been published. The following is all that 
can be relied upon as authentic* 

"From the beginning of the siege (February 23) 
to the 6th of March, the Mexicans had made fre- 
quent attempts to storm the fort, which were as 
often repulsed, generally with great loss on the side 
of the enemy. The garrison were occupied night 
and day, in fighting and watching the foe, and 
strengthening their works, which were large, and 
required at least five hundred men to man them 
well. 

" On the night of the 5th of March they had 
been working until nearly exhausted, and they re- 

* This account our informant derived from a colored ser- 
vant-boy of Colonel Travis, the only male survivor of the 
garrison. Moved to compassion by his age, or more prob- 
ably by his complexion, the enemy had spared him ; and he 
remains the only monument of Mexican mercy. This boy 
had been actively employed in waiting on the garrison dur- 
ing the last terrible conflict, and relates these few facts with 
great apparent simplicity and truth. The circumstances of 
the attack by the Mexicans came from a Mexican officer taken 
at the battle of San Jacinto, who had been actively engaged 
in storming the Alamo, and whose account of the closing 
scene also corroborates that of the colored boy. 



40 STORMING OF THE ALAMO. 

tired to rest about two hours before day. That 
morning had been chosen by Santa Anna to make 
a more desperate assault than had hitherto been 
attempted ; and for that purpose he had drawn 
up his infantry around the fort, and posted his 
cavalry outside, with orders to shoot down every 
man that turned back \ and thus, about an hour 
before day, the Mexican chief drove his own 
forces to the attack. Most of the Texan senti- 
nels, worn out with fatigue, had fallen asleep, 
and were killed at their posts. On the first 
alarm, the assailants were on and within the walls 
in great numbers. The garrison soon rallied, 
and attacked them with the energy of despera- 
tion. Twice the garrison cleared the yard and 
the walls. 

' They fought like brave men, long and well ; 
They piled that ground with foemen slain.' 

" But, overpowered by numbers and covered with 
wounds, they sank, one by one, with weariness, and 
loss of blood. Only one man was found alive when 
the Mexicans had gained full possession of the fort, 
and he was instantly shot by order of the Mexican 
chief. 

" The victory must be ascribed to the Mexicans, 
since there was no one left to dispute it. But the 
heroic Travis had redeemed his pledge. ' It cost 
them dearer than a defeat.' More than a thousand 



STORMING OF THE ALAMO. 4r 

Mexicans had fallen by the weapons of the garrison 
since the commencement of the siege." 

The other division of the Mexican army, which 
marched along the coast, and which was reported 
to be between three and four thousand strong, with 
a body of cavalry, marched toward Goliad, to attack 
Colonel Fannin. For an account of the events at 
Goliad, and of the tragic fate of Fannin and most 
of his associates, we avail ourselves of the following 
communication from Captain Benjamin H. Holland, 
who was a captain of artillery, in active service un- 
til the surrender. This account is corroborated by 
the statements of other survivors of the massacre. 
It has, too, the character of a semi-official report, 
as there was no officer of equal rank among the 
other survivors ; and, as such, it was ordered for 
publication by the President of Texas. 

"On or about the 12th of March, orders were 
issued by General Houston to destroy the town 
and fort of La Bahia, and for the troops to fall back 
on Gonzales, in order to unite with him, and thus 
concentrate all the Texan forces. 

" Prior to the receipt of these orders, Captain 
King's company was ordered to the Mission, — a 
distance of about twenty-five miles, — to relieve 
some families that were in danger of falling into 
the enemy's hands. When this company arrived 
at the Mission, they were met and attacked by a 
large body of the enemy, and, after a gallant and 



42 



STORMING OF THE ALAMO. 



well-sustained fight, retreated in an orderly and 
judicious manner to the church, where they sus- 
tained themselves against a very superior number 
of Mexicans and Indians, with only small loss to 
themselves, but severe loss to the enemy, until 
relieved by the Georgia battalion, under Colonel 
Ward, who had been sent to their aid. The sep- 
aration of our forces caused us to delay our retreat. 
An express was sent to Colonel Ward, at the Mis- * 
sion, to fall back and join the forces at Goliad with 
all possible dispatch ; or, should he be cut off by 
the enemy, — of whose advance from San Patricio 
we had intelligence, — to make good his retreat 
through the Guadaloupe bottoms, and join the 
main army at Victoria. 

"On the 1 6th our scouts brought intelligence 
that a body of the enemy, fifteen hundred strong, 
were at the San Antonio road. Many of the can- 
nons having been dismounted, preparatory to a re- 
treat, we immediately remounted them, as we an- 
ticipated an attack that night. About twelve o'clock 
the picket-guard gave the alarm, and retreated into 
the fort. It proved to be, however, only the ene- 
my's spies reconnoitring. On the 17th the enemy 
forded the San Antonio river, and showed them- 
selves at the old Mission, a distance from our fort 
of four miles. 

" This day we destroyed the whole town of Lu 
Bahia by fire, battering down all ruined walls, so 



STORMING OF THE ALAMO. 43 

as to secure us a full sweep of the enemy, should 
they attack the fort. 

"March 18///. — The enemy are still hovering 
round the old Mission. A council of war was called, 
when it was decided that, inasmuch as our provis- 
ions were short, and as we were well aware of the 
overwhelming force of the enemy, it was advisable 
to fall back to Victoria. 

" This night we made every preparation for an 
early retreat in the morning ; and by daylight 
every one was in marching order. Before day a 
scouting party was dispatched to ascertain the po- 
sition of the enemy. This party returned shortly 
after daylight, and reported that the lower road 
was clear. Colonel Horton was then ordered by 
Colonel Fannin to post all, — advance, rear, right, 
and left guard. 

"March igt/i. — At about half past six, this 
morning, we took the line of retreat toward the 
lower ford ; and about nine o'clock, A. M., we got 
our baggage and cannons across. We had several 
pieces of brass artillery ; consisting of one six-inch 
howitzer, three short sixes, two long and two short 
fours, with several small pieces for throwing mus- 
ket-balls. We then commenced our retreat toward 
Victoria. 

" We had advanced several miles without receiv- 
ing from our videttes any intelligence of the ene- 
my; and, at about ten o'clock, A. M., we halted, 



44 



STORMING OF THE ALAMO. 



to graze our cattle and take some refreshment, on 
the outskirts of some timber which we had just 
passed. Here we tarried about three fourths of 
an hour, when we again took up the line of march. 
We had advanced, however, only about four miles 
into the prairie, when we received intelligence of 
the enemy's approach. Colonel Horton's cavalry, 
which had been ordered to the rear, had neglected 
to remain in that position ; and, in consequence of 
this neglect, the enemy had advanced within the 
distance of one or two miles, before they were dis- 
covered by the infantry in the rear ; and almost 
simultaneously they were discovered upon both 
flanks, having thus advanced evidently with the 
design of surrounding us. The enemy had now 
formed a semicircle on our right and left ; and, as 
we had no means of moving our artillery except by 
exhausted and worn-out men, they were fast sur- 
rounding us. Captains Hurst and Holland were 
ordered to the rear, to keep up a retreating fire, 
under the cover of which we advanced about a 
mile and a half in the face of the enemy. But it 
now became necessary for us to take a position ; 
for we were entirely surrounded, and our cavalry 
was cut off from us and had escaped. Thex*e were 
now left of us only two hundred and fifty effective 
men, consisting of the following companies : — 

New Orleans Grays, — Captain Pellies. 

Red Rovers, — Captain Shackleford, from Alabama. 



STORMING OF THE ALAMO. 



45 



Mustangs, — Captain Duval. 
Mobile Grays, — Captain McManaman. 
Regulars, — Captain Westover. 
First Company of Artillery, — Captain Hurst. 
Second " " Captain Holland. 

Third " " Captain Schrunecki, a Polish 

engineer. 

" We were about three hundred yards to the left 
of the road, in a valley, with an elevation toward 
the road, of about six feet in the whole distance. 
We were unfortunately obliged to take that very 
disadvantageous position, in consequence of hav- 
ing pursued our advance so far in order to gain the 
woods. We drew our wagons into a cluster, formed 
ourselves into an oblong circle around them, and 
posted our artillery in position to defend it ; the 
circle being about forty-nine feet in its shortest 
central diameter, and about sixty feet in its long- 
est. It was now about one o'clock in the after- 
noon, at which time we were attacked on nearly all 
sides by the enemy, with a brisk fire of musketry. 
In order to draw the enemy within rifle-shot, we 
were ordered not to fire until the word of com- 
mand was given. We reserved our fire for about 
ten minutes; and several were wounded in our 
ranks before we fired. At the request of the offi- 
cers, the artillery was permitted to open fire. The 
wind was blowing slightly from the north-east ; and 
the smoke of our cannons covered the enemy, 
under which they made a desperate charge, but 



4 6 STORMING OF THE ALAMO. 

were repulsed with a very severe loss ; our cannons 
being loaded with musket balls, and the howitzers 
with grist. In this manner the action was kept up 
with great fury by the enemy ; charge after charge 
being made by the cavalry and infantry, and always 
repelled with heavy loss on their part. Our men 
behaved nobly ; and, although surrounded by over- 
whelming numbers, not a change of countenance 
could be seen. 

" Thus was the battle kept up ; and upon the 
repulse of each charge, column upon column of 
the enemy was seen to fall, like bees before 
smoke. Here were seen horses, without riders, 
flying in every direction ; and there, dismounted 
cavalry were making their escape on foot ; while the 
field was literally covered with dead bodies. It 
was a pitiable sight to see our small circle : it had 
become muddy with blood and dust ; and Colonel 
Fannin had been so badly wounded at the first or 
second fire as to be disabled, while the wounded 
were begging most piteously for water which we 
had not to give them. The fight continued until 
dusk, when the enemy retreated, leaving us mas- 
ters of the field, with a comparatively small num- 
ber killed and wounded, while the killed of the 
enemy lay around, heap upon heap. We possessed 
a great advantage over the Mexicans ; they having 
no artillery, and we having nine brass pieces, with 
which we kept up an incessant fire of musket-balls. 



STORMING OF THE ALAMO. 47 

" It now became prudent to take measures as to 
our next procedure. The officers were accordingly 
all summoned to Colonel Fannin, where he lay- 
wounded ; and the question was put whether we 
should maintain our present position, or retreat. 
It was carried that we should sustain ourselves as 
long as possible ; consequently, we commenced 
heaving up a redoubt, making it in height about 
three feet above the mean level of the prairie, ex- 
clusive of the dike. 

" The night was now very dark and cloudy, 
drizzling with rain and misty fog. The enemy 
encompassed us, and kept up a continual sound 
to charge, so that we appeared to be surrounded 
by bugles. We had with us a thousand spare 
muskets, which we loaded, and each man took an 
equal share ; our cannon ammunition being nearly 
exhausted. Daylight broke upon us in this situa- 
tion ; and some of our men went out about a hundred 
yards, and brought into camp two Mexican prison- 
ers, both badly wounded. From them we ascer- 
tained that the number opposed to us was nineteen 
hundred men ; and that a reinforcement of two 
brigades of artillery would be there that morning, 
if they had not already arrived. We had no sooner 
received the intelligence, than this very artillery 
opened upon us. These brigades had placed them- 
selves behind a small hillock, and were therefore 
entirely under cover. We could neither touch them 



48 STORMING OF THE ALAMO. 

with our cannons, nor make a charge upon them ; 
for they had so placed their cavalry that the moment 
we should quit our artillery, they could cut us to 
pieces. We accordingly met in council, to devise 
means and measures ; and it was then decided that 
we should send a flag of truce to the enemy, to obtain 
a treaty if it could be obtained upon fair and honor- 
able terms. Accordingly, Captain F. J. Desangue, 
the bearer of the express from General Houston, 
Captain B. H. Holland, of the artillery, and an en- 
sign, were dispatched with a flag of truce. The 
flags of truce met midway between the two armies ; 
and it was decided that the two commanders should 
meet to adjust the matter. In accordance with 
this arrangement, Colonel Fannin was conveyed 
out, and met General Urea, Governor of Durango, 
commander of the Mexican forces ; and the follow- 
ing treaty was concluded upon and solemnly rat- 
ified, a copy of it in Spanish being retained by 
General Urea, and one in English by Colonel Fan- 
nin. 

" ' Seeing the Texan army entirely overpowered 
by a far superior force, and to avoid the effusion of 
blood, we surrender ourselves prisoners of war, un- 
der the following terms : — 

" ' Art. i. That we shall be received and 
treated as prisoners of war, according to the usages 
of civilized nations. 

'"Art. 2. That the officers shall be paroled 



STORMING OF THE ALAMO. 49 

immediately on their arrival at La Bahia ; and the 
other prisoners shall be sent to Copano, within 
eight days, there to await shipping to the United 
States, so soon as it is practicable to obtain it ; no 
more to take up arms against Mexico, until ex- 
changed. 

'"Art. 3. That all private property shall be 
respected, and officers' swords shall be returned 
on parole or release. 

" ' Art. 4. That our men shall receive every 
comfort, and be fed as well as their own men. 

Signed by 

General Urea, 
Colonel Morateas, 
Colonel Hobzinger, 

on the part of the enemy ; and, on our part, signed 

by 

Colonel Fannin, 
Major Wallace.' 

" The officers were then called upon to deliver 
up their side-arms, which were boxed up, with the 
name of the owner placed by a ticket upon each, 
and a label upon the box, stating that the Mexi- 
cans should soon have the honor of returning 
them ; and that it was their principle to meet us 
now as friends, not as enemies. 

" Colonel Fannin and the men were that after- 
noon inarched back to La Bahia ; and the wounded, 
together with the captain of each company, were 



50 



STORMING OF THE ALAMO. 



left on the field ; and also our surgeons, to dress 
the wounded, which was completed on the 21st, 
when we were all conveyed back to the fort, where 
we found the men in a most miserable state. They 
were brutally treated : they were allowed but very 
little water to drink, because it had to be brought 
from the river ; and but a very small piece of meat 
each day, without salt, bread, or vegetables.* 

"On the 23d, Major Miller and ninety men 
were brought as prisoners into the fort. They had 
just landed at Copano, from the United States, 
when they were captured. 

"On the 25th, the Georgia battalion was also 
brought in. It had been surprised and captured 
between Victoria and Demill's Point, and marched 
back ; and it was henceforth to be confined with 
us. Here we now were, nearly five hundred strong, 
guarded by a thousand Mexicans, without being al- 
lowed the slightest liberty in any respect. 

" The Mexicans had always said that Santa 
Anna would be at La Bahia on the 27 th, to re- 
lease us. Accordingly, on that day we were all or- 
dered to march out. We were now told that we 
were going to bring wood and water, and that Santa 
Anna would be there that day. We were next or- 
dered to march, with all the officers placed at the 

* The great herds of cattle, roaming in many instances al- 
most wild over the vast and luxuriant prairies of Texas, made 
meat the article of food that could be most easily obtained. 



STORMING OF THE ALAMO. 51 

head of the file, except Colonel Fannin, who lay 
wounded in the hospital. As we marched out of 
the sally-port, we saw hollow squares formed ready 
to receive us. We were then ordered to file left, 
and to march into a hollow square of double-filed 
cavalry, who were on foot, armed with broadswords, 
and with carbines commonly called scopets. 

" This square was filled, and closed ; and the 
head of the remaining files wheeled off into another 
square, and so on, until we were strongly guarded 
in squares. The company of which the writer of 
this was one, was ordered to march forward ; and 
no more was seen of our unfortunate comrades. 
We marched out on the Bexar road, near the bury- 
ing-ground ; and, as we were ordered to halt, we 
heard our companions shrieking, in the most ago- 
nizing tones, ' O God ! O God ! spare us ! ' and 
nearly simultaneously was heard a rattling report of 
musketry ! It was then we knew what was to be 
our fate. I now observed to Major Wallace, who 
was my file leader, that it would be best to make 
a desperate rush. But he said, ' No,' — that we 
were too strongly guarded. I then appealed to 
several others ; but none would follow. 

" I now sprung out, and struck the soldier on 
my right a severe blow with my fist. As the sol- 
diers were at open files, the soldier at the other 
file attempted to shoot me ; yet, being too close, 
he was unable to do so. The soldier then turned 



52 STORMING OF THE ALAMO. 

his gun, and struck me a severe blow upon the left 
hand. But I seized the gun, and wrenched it from 
his hand, and instantly started and ran toward the 
river. A platoon of men, as I have since been in- 
formed by two others who made their escape by 
falling, when fired upon, among the dead bodies of 
their comrades, wheeled and fired upon me, but 
all missed. 

" I then had a chain of sentinels to pass, at a 
distance of about three hundred yards, who were 
about thirty yards apart, each from each. Three 
of them closed to intercept my retreat — the cen- 
tral one raised his gun to fire — I still ran towards 
him in a serpentine manner, to prevent him from 
taking aim — I lowered my piece, aimed and fired, 
and shot the sentinel through the head, who fell in- 
stantly dead. I ran over his dead body — the other 
two sentinels firing at me, but missing me — and 
immediately leaped into the river. While I was 
swimming across, I was shot at by three horsemen, 
but I reached the opposite bank in safety ; and, 
after wandering in the wilderness six days without 
food, I succeeded on the ioth of April in joining 
General Houston's army, after I had been retaken 
once, but had fortunately been able to make my 
escape in company with a wounded man who had 
got off from La Bahia by falling among the dead, as 
before stated. I am happy to say that six more 
succeeded in saving their lives and regaining their 



STORMING OF THE ALAMO. 53 

liberty by the same stratagem. The number of the 
enemy, according to their own account, killed at 
the battle of Cotelo, varied from nine hundred to 
eleven hundred ! " 

The only material events, connected with this 
part of the campaign, which are omitted in the 
foregoing narrative, relate to the movements of the 
Georgia battalion, under Colonel Ward ; which, it 
will be recollected, had been ordered to the relief 
of Captain King, at the Mission Refugio. We are 
told by Captain Holland only of their arrival to 
relieve King, and of their surrender, and return 
to Goliad, as prisoners. Some events intervened, 
which, in justice to Colonel Ward and his brave 
companions, whose lips are now sealed forever, 
ought not to be overlooked. These facts had 
probably not come to the knowledge of Captain 
Holland when he wrote his communication. 

Colonel Ward, with about one hundred men of 
the Georgia battalion, arrived at the Mission on 
the 13th of March. A single discharge from their 
rifles served to drive off the enemy, who had in- 
vested King in his position, which was the ruins of 
a stone church. Having marched during the day 
twenty-five miles, and most of the way in wet prai- 
rie, with the water often ankle deep, they were too 
much fatigued to think of returning the same night. 
Orders were given to commence their return march 
at daybreak, the next morning ; and, after posting 



54 STORMING OF THE ALAMO. 

sentinels, the men were permitted to sleep on their 
arms. 

On mustering in the morning, a report of one 
of the sentinels excited suspicions that the enemy 
had returned into the neighborhood, accompanied 
by a much larger force ; and it was then thought 
most prudent to send out a reconnoitring party, 
to precede the march of the main body. Accord- 
ingly, Captain King, with his company, was sent 
forward. A discharge of musketry was soon after- 
wards heard in the direction which they had taken. 
Ward, with his men, pressed immediately forward 
to the relief of the advance ; but, at the distance 
of only a few hundred yards, they were met in front 
by a body of Mexicans of six or eight hundred men. 
At the same instant they discovered a body of cav- 
alry moving at some distance in flank, in order to 
fall upon their rear, and cut off their retreat to the 
Mission. A moment's deliberation determined them 
to retreat again to the walls of the Mission house ; 
and, by reserving their fire, they kept the cavalry 
at a distance, and reached the walls without loss. 

Preparations were immediately made to defend 
themselves against assault, as the large force of the 
enemy rendered it very certain that an assault would 
soon be attempted. 

On three sides of the church there was nothing 
to cover the approach of the enemy ; but, in ad- 
vancing to make an assault, they were exposed 



STORMING OF THE ALAMO. 

to the deadly aim of the garrison the moment the, 
came within rifle-shot On the fourth side was the 
churchyard, of some fifty paces in length, walled 
in. From the end of this the ground sloped for 
some distance. This would cover the advance of 
the enemy until it became necessary to scale the 
wall ; and then there were some tombs within, that 
would still partially cover them in a nearer approach 
to the walls of the church. This point it was ne- 
cessary to defend by a force posted in the church- 
yard. 

Bullock's company, consisting of about thirty- 
five men, then without a commissioned officer pres- 
ent, but acting as a band of brothers, volunteered 
for this dangerous service. Ward himself, although 
looking well to his duty as commander of the bat- 
talion, was never long absent from his outpost ; in- 
deed, he scarcely affected to assume the command, 
but ranked with the band, and none could be more 
expert with the rifle. 

The order of defense was promptly adopted, 
and not less promptly executed. The force of the 
enemy, having been increased by the arrival of 
another reinforcement, now exceeded thirteen hun- 
dred, including the cavalry. At eight o'clock they 
were seen advancing briskly to the attack from 
all points at the same instant. Upon the enclosed 
sides of the building the enemy opened fire on 
reaching musket-shot distance. On the side of the 



I 



i 



5 STORMING OF THE ALAMO. 

churchyard they were discovered marching slowly 
and silently in close column, intending to draw up 
unperceived, and spring upon their prey from this 
place, at the moment when we might be hard pressed 
by their companions, and wholly occupied by the 
attack from that quarter. 

Ward had ordered his men not to hazard an 
ineffectual shot, but that every man should reserve 
his fire until sure of his aim ; and the order was 
obeyed to the letter. At the first discharge of rifles 
from the building, as many Mexicans fell. This 
produced some confusion in their ranks, and one 
or two parties retreated ; but others recovered, and 
made a rush toward the building. A second dis- 
charge from within, not less fatal than the first, cut 
down the foremost of these ranks, and put the sur- 
vivors to flight. Meantime the contest had com- 
menced on the side of the churchyard. The Mex- 
ican column had pressed forward as soon as the 
firing commenced on the other quarters ; and, at 
something less than one hundred yards, they re- 
ceived the fire of the little band, until then con- 
cealed behind the wall. Several of the front ranks 
fell, almost in a body, — as many, perhaps, by the 
panic as by the bullets. The remaining ranks fell 
back a few yards, but further retreat was stopped 
by a few of their brave officers. The column now 
deployed ; and detachments from the two wings ad- 
vanced to attack the churchyard in flank, while the 



STORMING OF THE ALAMO. $y 

centre once more moved forward to the attack in 
front. 

Ward and his "little brothers" — as he now 
called them, for they were all mere striplings in 
appearance, mostly under the age of eighteen — 
stood undaunted, pouring quick and deadly vol- 
leys upon the front, regardless of the threatened 
attack upon their flank, which they left to the care 
of their companions within the church ; and these, 
having now driven the first assailants beyond the 
reach of their rifles, were at full leisure to attend 
to the attack on that side; so that the flankers, 
now falling rapidly from the oblique fire, and un- 
restrained by the presence of any superior officer, 
fled like frightened deer, beyond the reach of dan- 
ger. The contest was more obstinate in front, 
where several officers made a desperate effort to 
lead their men to the charge. Many of their com- 
rades had fallen within a few yards of the wall, but 
every attempt to reach it proved ineffectual ; so 
that these rallied men, finding that they were main- 
taining the contest alone, while their companions 
had retreated out of danger, turned back with the 
rest. 

The Texans, having resisted this attack so gal- 
lantly and successfully, and with such terrible 
effect against the enemy, flattered themselves that 
they should remain unmolested during the remain- 
der of the day. But in this they were mistaken. 
3* 



58 STORMING OF THE ALAMO. 

The pride of the Mexican officers, many of whom 
had been long in service, was exceedingly wounded 
by the result of the attempted assault, which, in 
view of the great inequality of numbers, was felt 
to be a disgrace to the Mexican arms. The loss 
of the Mexicans, in the first attack, was little less 
than three hundred in killed and wounded ; yet 
this repulse was followed up, in a few hours, by a 
second attempt, and, in the course of the day, by a 
third attempt, to dislodge the hundred Volunteers 
from their crazy walls, but at each time with far 
less vigor than the first, and with as little success, 
but with much less loss in their ranks. 

Night now coming on, the Mexicans, after 
posting sentinels round the Mission, to prevent 
the escape of the besieged, retired to their camp, 
distant only five or six hundred yards. The Tex- 
ans, finding their ammunition nearly exhausted, 
which, with all their care in husbanding it, could 
not have held out through the last assault, had it 
been as vigorous as the first, determined to retreat 
during the night. This they effected unnoticed, or 
at least unmolested, by the enemy. Not a man of 
the hundred Volunteers had been killed in these 
repeated assaults, three* only having been severely 

* These men were left in the church, their companions be- 
ing unprovided with the means of taking them along. " We 
parted with tears and sobs," says our informant, who was one 
of the band, and who wept and sobbed again, before he had 



STORMING OF THE ALAMO. 59 

wounded ; and these three were the most daring 
of the little band of brothers who had so gallantly 
defended the outpost during the long day's strife. 
The acknowledged Mexican loss was four hundred 
men, killed and wounded. 

Santa Anna, in his wretched apology for his 
cold-blooded butchery of prisoners in violation of 
the express terms of their capitulation, introduces, 
among other things, this terrible slaughter of his 
men at Mission Refugio. An apology, indeed! 
One hundred Texans, attacked by a thousand Mex- 
icans, defended themselves with a gallantry unsur- 
passed in the records of heroic deeds which man- 
finished the tale. " When night came on, and the enemy had 
retired, we began to feel that hunger and thirst which a long 
day's work, without food or drink, could not fail to create. 
We had provided ourselves with a tierce of water in the 
morning from a spring some four hundred yards distant, but 
this water had been tapped and nearly all drawn off by the 
Mexican bullets, on the first assault. The poor wounded 
boys now begged, as a last favor of their companions, to fill 
their gourds with water before leaving them. The Mexicans 
had posted a strong guard at the spring; but the appeal of 
our stricken brothers was not to be resisted, and a number 
of us therefore marched in a body, determined to reach the 
spring or to perish in the attempt. After exchanging a volley 
the Mexicans left us in possession of the spring. Each of us 
then filled his gourd, and returned unhurt to our companions. 
Four of the Mexican guard had fallen at the spring. We 
also brought the blankets of the foes we had slain ; and in 
these we wrapped our dying comrades, and bid them farewell 
forever ! " 



60 STORMING OT THE ALAMO. 

kind have preserved with the greatest care ; and 
this is to excuse the butchery of unarmed pris- 
oners ! The apology is precious only as it is an 
unwilling tribute to the memory of brave men, 
from the hand of their assassin. 

Having been spared the painful detail of the 
horrid massacre at Goliad, by transferring to our 
pages an account drawn up by one who had a fear- 
ful interest in the scene, we forbear further com- 
ments. The deed is sufficiently characterized by 
a simple record of the facts. Before dismissing the 
subject, however, we will introduce one other wit- 
ness to speak for us, who also bore a part in the 
tragic scene, though very different from the last. 
He was an instrument of the assassin — and, as it 
would appear from his language, an unwilling in- 
strument — in consummating the atrocious deed. 
We extract the following from a letter written by a 
Mexican officer, after the massacre. 

"This day, Palm Sunday, March 27th, 1836, 
has been to me a day of most heartfelt sorrow. 
At six in the morning, the execution of four hun- 
dred and twelve American prisoners was com- 
menced, and continued till eight, when the last 
of the number was shot. At eleven commenced 
the operation of burning their bodies. But what 
an awful scene did the field present, when the pris- 
oners were executed, and fell dead in heaps ! And 
what spectator could view it without horror ! They 



STORMING OF THE ALAMO. 6 1 

were all young, the oldest not more than thirty, 
and of fine florid complexions. When the unfor- 
tunate youths were brought to the place of death, 
their lamentations, and the appeals which they 
uttered to Heaven, in their own language, with 
extended arms, kneeling or prostrate on the earth, 
were such as might have caused the very stones to 
cry out in compassion." 

Having brought to its closing scene the bloody 
drama which was acted on the western frontier at 
the beginning of the campaign, we turn back a few 
days to the time in which notice of the arrival of 
the invading army at San Antonio first reached 
Washington.* This was on the morning of the 
second day of March ; and previous to this, no cer- 
tain intelligence that a Mexican had crossed the 
Rio Grande, with hostile intentions, had reached 
that place. With Santa Anna it was probably a 
part of the plan of the campaign to surprise the 
Texans ; and in this he had fully succeeded. The 
news that San Antonio was already besieged by 
two thousand Mexicans, came accompanied by all 
the circumstances of the advance of the invading 
army in two divisions. Among other things it was 
alleged that Santa Anna himself was either at San 
Antonio or on his way thither, to direct in person 
the military operations of the campaign. There 
was nothing kept back. All the astounding facts 

* A town of Texas, and then the capital. 



62 STORMING OF THE ALAMO. 

came at once, with many exaggerations, rendering 
them still more dreadful and appalling. It was re- 
ported that both divisions of the invading army 
could not be less than fifteen thousand men ; that 
the garrison at San Antonio had already been over- 
come, and put to the sword ; and that the enemy 
were on the march for the Colorado. 

It will be recollected that the Texan Conven- 
tion, invested with full powers to declare indepen- 
dence and form a constitution, was then in session 
at Washington ; and it was at this dark hour, in 
face of the impending storm which threatened to 
lay their country in utter desolation, that the del- 
egates of the people of Texas adopted a declara- 
tion of independence, and put their names to the 
instrument. 

General Houston, the commander-in-chief of 
the Texan army, was also at Washington, on the 
receipt of the foregoing intelligence. From the 
day of his appointment, he had made unsparing 
efforts to furnish the means of equipping and sub- 
sisting a small army upon the frontier ; and for this 
purpose every available resource of the country had 
been put into requisition. But these resources 
were few indeed ; and his progress had been slow 
and discouraging. 

The savages upon the frontier, probably excited 
by the emissaries of Santa Anna, had assumed a 
hostile attitude during the winter; and the com- 



STORMING OF THE ALAMO. 63 

mander-in-chief found it necessary to engage per- 
sonally, in various measures of menace and pacifi- 
cation, to relieve the frontier citizens from danger 
in that quarter, in order that they might be ready 
to take the field against the Mexicans when occa- 
sion should demand it. 

To embody the citizens, and march with them to 
the western frontier, when the whole resources of the 
country were scarcely sufficient for the transporta- 
tion of a supply of provisions necessary for their 
subsistence for a single month, was not to be 
thought of. There was no feasible course but to 
await the event, and to call them out on the first 
alarm. That alarm, with the call for troops, had 
now come; but the call had come a distance of 
nearly two hundred miles, crossing rivers, and trav- 
ersing a country without roads or bridges, and over 
the deep soil of Texas in the rainy month of March. 
Its progress had therefore been unavoidably slow ; 
and so, in spite of all human effort, must likewise 
be the response. 

The commander-in-chief having appointed Gon- 
zales as a place of general rendezvous, immediately 
dispatched couriers to all the principal settlements, 
with the following order : — 

ARMY ORDER. 

Convention Hall, Washington, March 2, 1836. 

War is raging on the frontiers. Bexar is be- 
sieged by two thousand of the enemy, under the 



64 STORMING OF THE ALAMO. 

command of General Siesma. Reinforcements are 
on their march to unite with the besieging army. 
By the last report, our force in Bexar was only one 
hundred and fifty men. The citizens of Texas must 
rally to the aid of our army, or it will perish. Let 
the citizens of the East march to the combat. The 
enemy must be driven from our soil, or desolation 
will accompany their march upon us. Indepen- 
dence is declared : it must be maintained. Im- 
mediate action, united with valor, alone can achieve 
the great work. The services of all are forthwith 

required in the field. 

SAM. HOUSTON, 
Commander-in-Chief of the Army. 

P. S. — It is rumored that the enemy are on then 
march to Gonzales, and that they have entered the 
colonies. The fate of Bexar [San Antonio] is un- 
known. The country must and shall be defended. 
The patriots of Texas are appealed to in behalf of 
their bleeding country. S. H. 

After sending out this brief but stirring appeal, 
General Houston proceeded to muster all the forces 
that could be collected in the neighboring settle- 
ments, and commenced a forced march for Gon 
zales, his place of rendezvous. 

In the mean time, the same alarming intelligence 
that reached Washington on the morning of the 2d, 
had previously spread through most of the settle- 
ments west of the Brazos. That a panic to some 



STORMING OF THE ALAMO. 65 

extent was the consequence, we have before inti- 
mated. Indeed, in view of all the circumstances, 
the absence of it might be deemed incredible. Men 
who might have acted bravely where personal safety 
alone was concerned, became cowards in contem- 
plating the indefinable dangers to which their fami- 
lies might be exposed in their absence. Many there- 
fore proceeded to remove their families before the 
enemy, in stead of manfully facing the enemy, and 
driving them back from their families. There are 
men, however, who can not be reached by a panic ; 
and in no other country is the proportion greater 
than in Texas. Men of this class hastened from 
all quarters to the frontier; and, on the 7th of 
March, when General Houston reached Gonzales, 
he found himself at the head of about five hundred 
men. On the 8th, a Mexican brought in a report 
of the fall of the Alamo, and the fate of the gar- 
rison. 

A company, consisting of most of the men able 
to bear arms in and about Gonzales, had but a 
few days before marched to the relief of the gar- 
rison. They had bravely broken through the lines 
of the besieging army, and reached the fort in 
safety, but only to become early victims to num- 
bers too overwhelming to be resisted. Tidings of 
their fate now first reached their relations. " No 
human pen," says our correspondent, one of the 
aids of General Houston, " can describe the scenes 



66 STORMING OF THE ALAMO. 

which these sad tidings produced in the little town 
of Gonzales. Not less than twenty women, with 
young and helpless children, were made widows. 
Fathers had lost sons, brother had lost brother. 
In short, there was not a family in the once happy 
and flourishing settlement of Gonzales, that did 
not mourn the death of some murdered relative. 
The soldiers, too, partook of the general afflictions 
of the citizens, for they too had lost many a brother, 
— many a hero fit to have stood by the side of 
Caesar. For several hours after the receipt of the 
intelligence, not a sound was heard save the wild 
shrieks of the women, and the heart-rending screams 
of the fatherless children. Little groups of men 
might be seen in various corners of the town, brood- 
ing over the past and speculating upon the fu- 
ture, but they scarcely spoke above a whisper ; for 
here the public and the private grief were alike 
heavy, and sunk deep into the heart of the rudest 
soldier." 

It was suggested that the report brought by 
the Mexican might be an invention of the enemy, 
although there were too many corroborating cir- 
cumstances to leave a serious doubt of the awful 
truth. It was deemed expedient that not only the 
fate of the Alamo should be known beyond a 
doubt, but that the position and strength of the 
enemy should, if possible, be ascertained. Accord- 
ingly, the next day, Deaf Smith — the Harvey 



STORMING OF THE ALAMO. 67 

Birch of the Texan Revolution — and two others, 
of whom our correspondent was one, volunteered, 
at the call of the General, to proceed upon this 
hazardous service. Having advanced about twenty 
miles on the route to San Antonio, they discovered, 
at a long distance on the prairie in front, three per- 
sons approaching on horseback. Supposing that 
these persons might be a Mexican scouting party, 
they pressed rapidly forward ; but, on coming 
nearer, they discovered a bonnet. The party 
proved to be the unfortunate Mrs. Dickenson, 
with an infant in her arms, accompanied by Ben, 
a servant of Almonte, and the boy Sam, the faith- 
ful and devoted servant of Colonel Travis. Mrs. 
Dickenson and the others, after recovering from 
the fright occasioned by the unceremonious charge 
of the advancing party, confirmed the report of the 
Mexican, in regard to the fall of the Alamo, and 
the fate of the garrison. The party brought also a 
sort of bragging proclamation from General Sies- 
ma, whom they had left that morning on the ad- 
vance to Gonzales, at the head of a force which 
they estimated variously from three thousand to 
ten thousand men. The party then returned with 
the intelligence thus obtained to the camp at Gon- 
zales. On the receipt of which it was decided by 
General Houston, in accordance with the general 
sentiment of his officers, to burn the town of Gon- 
zales, and fall back upon the Colorado, with the 



68 STORMING OF THE ALAMO. 

expectation of receiving reinforcements, and in- 
creasing the strength of his little army. The af- 
flicted inhabitants of the settlement of course 
accompanied the army in its retreat, and availed 
themselves of its aid in taking along their few val- 
uable movables. 

As we stated in the first Note, this invading 
army, under Santa Anna, was afterwards totally 
routed by General Houston, near the San Jacinto. 
Santa Anna himself was taken prisoner ; and Texas 
was thus wrenched off from the cankered or polit- 
ically scrofulous republic of Mexico, and subse- 
quently annexed to the United States. Perhaps 
it is not improper to add, that the sooner the peo- 
ple of Mexico can annex the entire remnant of 
their beautiful country to the United States, the 
better it will be for them. Our powerful civiliza- 
tion would soon inundate, and drown out, the 
indolence, superstition, and ignorance which blight 
their national life ; and the strong arm of our law, 
backed by our irresistible military force, would 
soon overawe, quiet down, and utterly subdue the 
guerilla and insurrectionary elements, into peace, 
order, and security. 





TYPES OF LIFE. 




ND Life, — O, what is Life, 
So full of care and strife, 
And anxious bustlings all around 
this earth ; 
So full of smiles and tears, 
So full of hopes and fears, 
So full of change and trial from its birth ? 



ii. 



A brief, fantastic dream ; 
A ne'er-returning stream ; 
A feast that charms at first, but satiates soon ; 



yo TYPES OF LIFE. 

A varying year or day ; 

A weary, perilous way ; 

A radiant dew that vanishes ere noon. 



in. 

A flower that quickly fades ; 

A light that darkness shades ; 
A star within a firmament of night ; 

A morn divinely fair, 

Soon lost in murky air ; 
A crop that in its glory meets the blight. 

IV. 

An oak by thunder riven ; 

A ship o 'er billows driven, 
Or wrecked by false lights on a treacherous 
sea ; 

A bubble on a wave ; 

A blossom on a grave ; 
A spark engulfed in dark immensity. 



TYPES OF LIFE. y t 



v. 

A shell of love and bloom 

Around a globe of tomb, 
And evanescent as the dial's shade ; 

A maze ne'er understood, 

Until too late, and rued ; 
A. drama 'twixt a tear and groan displayed.' 



VI. 

A yine that fondly clings 

To all terrestrial things, 
And ever bears false flowers with the true ; 

An arrow quickly sped ; 

A melody soon fled ; 
A world of leaves whose year has soon run 
through. 



* " Man comes into the world with a tear, and goes out of 
it with a groan ! " — Funeral Sermon of Jeremy Taylor. 



72 TYPES OF LIFE. 



A tree with blossoms crowned, 

That soon fall to the ground, 
And fall and fall from bloom to ripened fruit ; 

Till more and more bereft, 

At last but little 's left 
To crown the hopes that bloomed on every 
shoot. 

VIII. 

A thread soon burnt in twain, 
Or snapped with little strain ; 

A cloth whose shining nap is soon worn off ; 
A texture woven light, 
With threads of black and white ; 

A patchless garment that we soon must doff. 

IX. 

A mingling light and shade 
By fluttering aspen made, 
When wrung by winds and smiled on by the 
sun ; — 



TYPES OF LIFE. <-, 

Joy, sorrow, ease, and care, 
Woe, rapture, hope, despair, 
That, like touched notes, in quick succession 
run. 

x. 

A various-tolling bell, — 

Now joyous, now a knell ; 
An echo faintly heard and quickly gone ; 

A glow-worm's nickering light ; 

A Borealis bright ; 
A rainbow that recedes while luring on. 

XI 

A breeze that comes and goes 
Whence, whither, no one knows ; 
A radiant sunbeam in the earth absorbed ; 
A meteor in the sky ; 
A cloud that swims on high ; 
A moon that wanes the moment 't is full- 
orbed. 
4 



74 



TYPES OF LIFE. 



XII. 

A green and blooming spray 

Torn from its stock away, 
To turn in dust or flood to dissolution ; 

A loved and sunlit flower, 

Or leaf in rustling bower, 
That falls to moulder in forgot seclusion. 

XIII. 

A bright but brittle glass ; 

A frail array of grass, 
That withering falls before the mower's scythe 

A fuel to maintain 

Eternal fires and pain ; 
A deathless worm that must forever writhe. 

XIV. 

A ripened Paradise 
Sown broadcast from the skies, 
Upon a globe with bliss thus speckled o'er ; 



TYPES OF LIFE. 75 

An antechamber where 
The good awhile repair, 
Then seek the palace through a sable door. 

xv. 
A crop whose seeds are sown 
On loam, in brush, on stone, 

And as they fall so differently they speed ; 
A field that never bears 
Its wheat without the tares ; 

A garden where the flower strives with weed. 

XVI. 

A cold, capricious soil 

That needs incessant toil, 
And best receives in early spring its seeds ; 

Where oft our first neglect 

We vainly would correct, 
That ends a stubborn waste of thorns and 
weeds. 



76 TYPES OF LIFE. 

XVII. 

A fountain in whose rise 

A pois'nous serpent * lies, 
That taints the silvery streamlet to its end ; 

A brook oft clogged awhile, 

Or turbid from the soil, 
Though sunbeams kiss it, flowers o'er it bend. 

XVIII. 

The pageant of a day ; 

An insect summer gay ; 
A torch soon quenched that can not be relit ; 

A self-consuming light ; 

A treacherous cup, though bright ; 
A nice machine, which spoiled, none can refit. 

XIX. 

A harp of thousand strings, 
Which thousand trivial things 

* Original sin. 



TYPES OF LIFE. jy 

Can easily derange, untune, or mar ; 
A thunder in a cloud, 
That shoots out bright and loud, 

And leads a storm of ruin wide and far. 



A blood-won laurel bough, 

To grace another's brow ; 
A bridge foundation sunk for others' tread, 

That over flood and slime 

They easily may climb, 
And reach the wished-for land that lies ahead. 

XXI. 

A stream that swallows all 
The smaller streams that fall 

Within its valley, and then swells with pride, — 
As being itself the host 
Of those it has engrossed, — 

Till lost itself within the ocean's tide. 



yS TYPES OF LIFE. 

XXII. 

An ocean full of fish, 
Where one 's the other's dish, 

Provided skill and strength can win the prize ; 
An airy deep all vain, 
Where myriad birds with pain 

And strenuous wing seek highest each to 
rise. 

XXIII. 

A coral world and race, 

Empired in ocean Space, 
Whose tiny generations come and go ; 

Yet ever leave behind 

Their labors to their kind, 
And mystic haunts of pleasure, strife, and woe. 

XXIV. 

A vast, laborious hive, 
Where they who most should thrive 
Must keep in splendid style the drones above ; 



TYPES OF LIFE. yg 

Where charity and right 
Are oft forgotten quite, 
And self and scorn usurp the place of love. 

xxv. 

A rank and splendor built 

On slavery or on guilt, — 
A grandeur loved the least when nearest seen ; 

A joy and state o'erwrought 

By leaving others naught, — 
Luxuriance that on death exceeds the mean.* 

xxvi. 
A monster overgrown 
Who strives to make his own 

All he can get by every cunning scheme ; 
Who sees and can enjoy 
The world through but one eye, — 

A man-devouring, one-eyed Polypheme.f 

* Reference to the greater rankness of vegetation when 
manured by something dead below, 
t Think of the millionnaire. 



80 TYPES OF LIFE. 

XXVII. 

A peacock vastly vain, 

That, having in his train 
The gawdy glories of this petty earth, 

Parades them with full scorn 

To all less lucky born, 
And struts immensely in ephemeral worth. 

xxvin. 

A traveller like the hack 

Whose heavy-laden back 
Must bear its burden till relieved by death ; 

Who leaves the world below, 

And dies in mountain snow, 
To catch a dying note of flattering breath. 

xxix. 
A steed that on must dash 
Beneath the spur and lash, 
Or sweat in galling harness till old age ; 



TYPES OF LIFE. gl 

A drudge on tread-wheel bound, 
And dwarfed by round and round ; 
A bird that looks at freedom from a cage. 



xxx. 



A sprout beneath a clod ; 

An ever-trodden sod ; 
A fertile field, yet desolate and nude ; 

A sweet that yields at last 

A sickening after-taste ; 
A joyous strength lost in decrepitude. 



XXXI. 

A plant whose every flower, 
Whate'er its pleasing power, 

Leads us at length down to a bitter root ; 
A tree that will not bear, 
Save past long years of care, 

And from laborious toil, its noblest fruit. 



82 TYPES OF LIFE. 

XXXII. 

A viper 'neath a flower ; 

A laurel fresh an hour ; 
A child's frail play-work by a breath up- 
tripped ; * 

A worm that spins itself, 

To die in silken pelf ; 
A prison palace, or an eagle clipped.! 

XXXIII. 

An ancient mountain height % 

That charms from far the sight, 
Whose trees grow out mere scrubs from every 
part; 

A wood where one oft sees § 

The greatest, noblest trees 
Take from the lowest vale their cheerless start. 

* The empires of ambition. 

t Man's soul on earth — " cribbed, cabined, and confined." 
— Byron. 

% Aristocracy. § The lower classes. 



TYPES OF LIFE. 83 

xxxiv. 

Mind lit in Heaven's own ray, 

Which pride, or want, or sway, 
Oft undervalues, spurns, or seeks to hide ; 

A gem 'midst rubbish tossed, 

Unseen, unprized, and lost, 
Till set in Glory's heaven to abide. 

xxxv. 
A specious lottery bank, 
With many and many a blank, 
That in ten thousand scarce one prize unfurl ; 
An India oyster-bed, 
Deep from the diver hid, 
And scarce one shell in thousand holds a 
pearl* 

xxxvi. 
A race for wealth or fame, 
Where most find loss or shame ; 

* Applicable to genius or fortune. 



84 TYPES OF LIFE. 

A landscape that bewitches far before ; 

An oak by stream made vast, 

Yet underwashed at last, 
And, fallen once, can root and rise no more.* 



XXXVII. 



A game in which few win, 

Though myriads enter in, 
With skill, fair prospects, and the hope to 
beat ; 

And they who win at last, 

Find, when the excitement 's past, 
The struggle real, but the prize a cheat. 



XXXVIII. 



A hard and empty nut ; 
A wheel within a rut ; 
A farce repeated for six thousand years, 

* Think of the politician. 



TYPES OF LIFE. 85 

For which the great have wrought, 
For which the brave have fought, 
Yet little better grows it as it wears. 

xxxix. 

A marsh whose soil and slime 

Naught but a rigorous clime 
Can keep untainted from corruption's breath ; 

Which soon, with genial suns, 

To foul luxuriance runs, 
And breeds miasma, serpents, stench, and death. 

XL. 

A fiendish brood of hell, 

Girt in by Law's dread spell ; 
A dark menagerie filled with monsters foul ; 

Though genial while restrained, 

Woe, woe, betide the land 
Where War shall draw the bolt and let them 
prowl.* 

* Think of guerillas, and of cruelty to prisoners. 



S6 TYPES OF LIFE. 

XLI. 

Good saints and angels sent 

From their blest firmament, 
To guide a wandering planet back to Heaven ; 

A germ of good that springs 

From out all evil things ; 
Sweet violets blowing where the storm has 
driven. 

XL1I. 

A fountain crusted o'er 

With error more and more, 
Till force the streamlet's outlet must renew ; 

A slowly-gathering storm 

Whose foul and lowering form 
In thunder bursts, to let the bright sun through. 

XLIII. 

A being spiritual 
Within an organ shell 
That binds it to this good and evil earth, 



TYPES OF LIFE. 87 

From which its growth it draws 
By good or evil laws, 
Till comes an angel or a devil forth. 

XLIV. 

A bee * in sweetness drowned ; 

A snow that soon is found 
Stained with the various filth it meets below ; 

A diamond whose pure grain 

Earth can not smirch or stain, — 
A star f that lights with pure, eternal glow. 

XLV. 

A sin-worm at the core, 

That gnaws forevermore, 
Laid by hot Passion in the youthful heart ; 

A poor Prometheus bound 

To rocks, with vultures round ; 
A funeral raven that will not depart. 

* The man who can not resist temptation. 

t A pure and noble life, such as Washington's. 



88 TYPES OF LIFE. 

XLVI. 

A heart-pierced, trembling deer, 

Upon whose wound severe 
There is at last the balm of Gilead poured ; 

A bruised and broken reed, 

That, in its utmost need, 
By grace from Heaven is again restored. 

XL VII. 

A work of cunning art, 

That ever in some part 
Is left defective by the Maker's will ; 

And most retain their own 

With discontent and moan, 
For every good is balanced by some ill. 

XLVIII. 

A feast for myriad guests 
So various in their tastes 
That each deems loathsome every other's fare ; 



TYPES OF LIFE. 89 

A myriad burdens borne 
By myriads in their turn, 
Where each deems lighter what the others bear. 



XLIX. 

A sweet yet thorny rose, 

No matter where it grows, — 
In cottage, palace, Iceland, or Ceylon ; 

The same mixed melody 

Of care, and woe, and glee, 
Set in all hearts, beneath whatever sun. 

L. 

A tree and clasping vine 

That fondly intertwine, 
And rise and thrive in mutual strength and 
state ; 

Two oxen yoked unmeet, 

That tread each other's feet, 
Because they lean out from a mutual hate. 



9 o TYPES OF LIFE. 



A kindling, glorious prize 

For which the young heart sighs, 
And Hopes, like seraphs, round the chariot wait ; 

A failure — and remorse 

Than non-existence worse, 
For demons haunt where angels flew of late.* 

LII. 

An eagle free to range 

The wide world for a change, 
A bird whose song needs please no one beside ; 

A flower to bloom alone, 

Ungathered and unknown, 
Some Scripture lily in its worth and pride. 

LIII. 

A heart-group of rich buds 
That die in dreary woods, 

* Disappointed love. Allusion to Aurora and the Hours. 



TYPES OF LIFE. g l 

Because no genial sun unfolds their bloom ; 

A house to ruin led 

Because untenanted ; 
A branchless trunk lost in the forest's gloom. 

LIV. 

A fruit that fairest shows 

While hid within it grows 
The canker that shall eat the heart away ; 

A water-lily which, 

Though set in slime or ditch, 
Draws heavenly beauty from the foulest clay.* 

LV. 

Sweet flowerets of one stem 
That fondly nurtures them 
In sun and dew, till scattering winds dash 
o'er ; 

* Think of the family in Burns's " Cotter's Saturday 
Night." 



9 2 TYPES OF LIFE. 

A crystal streamlet's pride 
Lost in some turbid tide ; 
A nest's dear brood that part to meet no more ! 

LVI. 

A frail and gilded toy 
That charms the girl or boy, 

But soon its song and gilding wear away ; 
A summer voyage bright, 
Near banks that breathe delight, 

But storm and rapids soon hide pleasure's ray.* 

LVII. 

A child 'midst fairy dreams, 

Within a boat that seems 
Unconscious on some dread Niagara borne, 

Which sweeps him to the brink 

Ere he can wake and think, 
Then hurls him over — never to return ! 

* Think of Colt's "Voyage of Life." 



TYPES OF LIFE. 

LVIII. 

A shepherd in the night 
Who seeks his Master's sight, 

Led by the glorious star of Bethlehem ; 
Dark billows to sail o'er, 
Upon whose farther shore 

Resplendent shines the New Jerusalem. 

LIX. 

A helpless chrysalis 

Shut in from light and bliss, 

Yet soon to seek the sky on joyous wing ; 
A worm that lives and thrives 
Through many deaths and lives, 

In slow gradations to a perfect thing.* 

LX. 

A precious bud whose bloom 
Unfolds beyond the tomb, 
In amaranthine hue and scent divine ; 

* Swedenborgian. 



93 



94 TYPES OF LIFE. 

A night whose vapor mars 
Its firmament of stars, 
But whose rich morn in Heaven shall break 
and shine. 

LXI. 

A music of the spheres 

That fills all space and years, 
Where discords oft in minor notes befall ; 

A drama deeply planned, 

An oratorio grand, 
Played for the pleasure of the Lord of all. 

LXII. 

A mystic pyramid 

With base in chaos hid, 
That narrows and ascends at each degree ; 

Whose summit, towering high, 

Pierces the ethereal sky, 
Till crowned with Godhead and eternity. 



TYPES OF LIFE. 95 

LXIII. 

Again a world of sea 

In its deep mystery, 
Where but the varying surface can be seen ; 

And God's whole wondrous plan 

Can ne'er be reached by man, 
Though all his boasted science intervene. 

LXIV. 

An ocean dusk and nude, 

Laid out in solitude,* 
And girt by vast Duration's mystic shore ; 

Whose billows f out are rolled, 

Successive and controlled, 
To that dread coast, there break — and are no 
more ! 



Then why through each day bear 
A load of fretting care, 

* The solitude of immensity. t The generations of men. 



9 6 TYPES OF LIFE. 

The pangs of memory and the doubts of hope ? 

Why make in storm or cold 

Life's fragile flower unfold, 
Nor in sweet sunshine let it spread and ope ? 

Why treat our fellow-man 
With hardship where we can, 

And rob or spill his little cup of bliss ? 
Why not, since other foes 
Gird life's brief span with woes, 

Live 'mongst ourselves in charity and peace ? 

And why forever strive, 

And even sin to thrive, 
Or look upon this earth with so much lust ; 

Since all that here is won 

Shall be again undone, 
While Soul and Conscience live beyond the 
dust? 




LILY OF THE VALLEY, 



EEK, saintly sister of the flower 
ffifflB That 's born of April blue, 
sjlSk A sweeter perfume is thy dower, 
Though paler be thy hue. 




If lover can not tell his love 
Her eye of blue 's like thine, 

Thy innocence can lend his theme 
A symbol more divine. 



No ray of the infracted light 
To tinge thy leaf is given ; 

To tell the pure are robed in white, 
Thou wear' st the dress of Heaven. 



9 8 LILY OF THE VALLEY. 

When Paradise first greeted Eve, 
All bridal-white were flowers ; 

As forth she walked they caught from her 
Their tinting in her bowers. 

Red from her lips, blue from her eyes, 
Gold from her golden hair, — 

All loyal to the loveliness 
Which filled that Eden air. 

Thee, lovely one, her effluence gave 

A lineage like the rest ; 
Reclining on the bank, thy leaves 

Her snowy bosom pressed. 




f 




THE BLUE-BIRDS. 




HEN spring the fields in daisies 
dressed, 
And flushed the woods with ma- 
ple-buds, 
I spied a little blue-bird's nest 
Within a cedar's branchy studs. 



The nest of leaves, inlaid with hair, 
The summer's sun had withered up ; 

And autumn's acorns still were there, 
For snow had brimmed the tiny cup. 



What then ? I heard a pilgrim hymn, 
And half forgave the long neglect ; 

When perched upon the threshold rim 
A little feathered architect. 



100 THE BLUE-BIRDS. 

And straw by straw the walls he wrought, 
And hair by hair the floor he spread, 

And then his blue-bird wife he brought, 
And both slept in that nuptial bed. 



O, how I loved my pranksome guest ! 

For him I loved his helpmate too ; 
With jealous care I fenced their nest, 

And watched them as they sang or flew. 

So April passed ; and gentle May 

Went murmuring by with leaves and bees ; 

And two small blue-winged chicks had they, 
When summer brightened on the trees. 

My very solitude had made 

That tiny household seem more sweet ; 
And often to the bank I strayed 

To hear the nestlings chirp and eat. 



THE BLUE-BIRDS. I0I 

But when the palsied autumn came, 

And shook the boughs, and bared the wood, 

I scarce the feathered brood could blame 
That void their puny wigwam stood. 

For summer friends had come like these ; 

Like these the summer friends had flown, 
When stormy winter stripped the trees, 

And left the cold and me alone. 




GALVESTON 



' This world is passing-glorious ; fit to be 
The palace-home of Immortality." — Chapman. 




AR away in the South is a beautiful 
isle, 
That gleams like a gem in the wide- 
spreading ocean ; 
For flowers and verdure forever there smile, 
And the leaves ever play with a glistering 
motion. 



So bright is the sun, so blue-tinted the sky, 
And so various and brilliant the clouds in 
their cruising, 
That the whole seems a purified world to the eye, 
Made for purified mortals and heavenly 
musing. 



GALVESTON. I0 3 

The ocean far round ever shimmers and rolls 
In white-crested waves or in soft undula- 
tion ; 
Or stretched in calm sleep o'er abysses and 
shoals, 
Gleams afar with its rosy and gold radia- 
tion. 

And a thousand white ships, when the light 
breezes sport, 
Glide around, in, and out, with the world's 
treasures freighted ; 
While some by the far sky seem lying in port, 
As if for a freight of bright angels they 
waited. 

Myriad sea-fowls on high in their wild music 
scream, 
Rise, dive, dodge, and circle, with motions 
unending ; 



104 GALVESTON. 

While their long and lithe pinions oft lily-white 

gleam 
In the pure and deep azure which o'er them 

is bending. 

When Aurora's first beams glow on billow and 
isle, 
The fisherman's song with the surf music 
mingles ; 
And the jolly, brusque tars sing in bands after 
toil, 
While the moonlight divine on the bay gleams 
and twinkles. 

The Ocean his treasures brings ever in there, 
To the lap of the isle which he loves and 
caresses ; 
And the orange and fig ever blossom and bear, 
For no winter e'er comes, and no summer 
oppresses. 



GALVESTON. I05 

There maidens grow fairer than ever were seen 
On the islands of Greece or in bowers of 
Judaea ; 
There life longer blooms undiseased and se- 
rene, 
And the Muse's thoughts spring flush as 
flowers of Euboea.* 



In my boyhood's sweet prime, when my heart, 
like a lute, 
To the beauties of nature in music responded, 
On the beach of that isle often blissfully mute 
I revelled in thought o'er the scenes that sur- 
rounded, 



* Euboea, or Negropont, is the largest and probably the 
most beautiful of the Grecian isles. Through its whole 
length runs a mountain range, from which, on each side, 
beautiful vales and dells slope off to the sea. These are 
noted for the luxuriant greenness of their foliage, and the 
vivid beauty of their flowers and flowering shrubs. 

5* 



I0 6 GALVESTON. 

And oft when all lonely I muse o'er the past, 
And repress fond regrets with a fruitless en- 
deavor, 
I think on that isle, with the maid I love best, 
I could live, love, and toil, and be happy 
forever. 




SWANNANOA 




WANNANOA, nymph of beauty, 
^ I would woo thee in my rhyme ; 
Wildest, brightest, loveliest river 
Of our sunny Southern clime. 
Swannanoa,* well they named thee, 
In the mellow Indian tongue ; — 
Beautiful thou art most truly, 
And right worthy to be sung. 



I have stood by many a river, 

Known to story and to song ; 
Hudson, Shawnee,f Susquehanna, 

Fame to which may well belong. 

* Swannanoa is a Cherokee word, and means beautiful. 
t Shawanee, anglicized Shawnee ; the Indian name of the 
Cumberland River. 



108 SWANNANOA. 

I have gazed o'er the Ohio, 

Trod Scioto's fertile banks, 
Followed far the Juniata, 

In the wildest of her pranks, 

But thou reignest queen forever, 

Child of Appalachian hills ; 
Winning tribute as thou flowest 

From a thousand mountain rills. 
Thine is beauty, strength, begotten 

'Mid the cloud-begirded peaks, 
Where the Patriarch * of the mountains 

Heavenward for thy water seeks. 

Through the laurels and the beeches 
Bright thy silver current shines, 

Sleeping now in granite basins 
Overhung by trailing vines ; 

* Black Mountain. 



SWANNANOA. I0 9 

And anon careering onward 

In the maddest frolic moods, 
Waking with its sea-like voices 

Fairy echoes in the woods. 

Peaceful sleep thy narrow valleys 

In the shadow of the hills, 
And thy flower-enamelled border 

All the air with fragrance fills. 
Wild luxuriance, generous tillage, 

Here alternate meet the view ; 
Every turn, through all thy windings, 

Still revealing something new. 

Where, O graceful Swannanoa ! 

Are thy warriors, who of old 
Sought thee at thy mountain sources, 

Where thy springs are icy-cold ? 
Where, the dark-browed Indian maidens 

Who their limbs were wont to lave 



I io SWANNANOA. 

(Worthy bath for fairer beauty) 
In thy cool and limpid wave ? 

Gone forever from thy borders, 

But immortal in thy name, 
Are the red men of the forest : — 

Be thou keeper of their fame ! 
Paler races dwell beside thee, 

Celt and Saxon till thy land ; 
Wedding use unto thy beauty, 

Blending in one social band. 




VIEW FROM MOUNT ADAMS. 



EYOND the river, wide around, 
The broken hills in beauty lie ; 
With bowery clumps of foliage 
crowned, 
And crests that seem to touch the sky. 




Now spreads the morning's rosy light 
Far o'er the fresh and dewy scene, 

And rolls the brightening shades of night 
Down western slope and deep ravine. 



* Mount Adams is a very high knoll of land on the Ohio 
River, just above Cincinnati. It commands a magnificent 
prospect of the city and its vicinity, of Kentucky, and of the 
Ohio River in both directions. So attractive was this beau- 
tiful elevation of land, especially before residences and " im- 
provements " (?) encumbered its sides, that General Mitchell, 



112 VIEW FROM MOUNT ADAMS. 

The rising sun the churches greets, 
And sets their golden spires aglow ; 

While far along the slumbering streets 
Its wakening floods of radiance flow. 

Now here and there comes briskly out 
The man who means to thrive and rise ; 

Or some gay horseman, on his route 
To view the pomp of earth and skies. 

Lone, towering tree-tops far off stand 
Medallioned on the soft gray sky ; 

And nearer, picturesque and grand, 
Flows smoothly the Ohio by. 

From sky and hills wrapt in blue haze 

It issues like a glassy plain, 
And near us in the sunlight plays, 

Then seeks the sky and hills again. 

the astronomer, many years ago selected it for his residence, 
and for the Cincinnati Observatory. 



VIEW FROM MOUNT ADAMS. II3 

Along it many a mount uproars 

Its pomp of shade and bloom unfurled ; 

And on its top a mansion bears, 
That proudly overlooks the world. 

And far beyond those dusky heights 
A statesman in his glory sleeps : * 

No purer patriot to her rights 
Columbia in her annals keeps. 

There, too, the heroine maid now rests, f 
Whose awful tale of love and wrong 

Shows what revenge in female breasts 
Should awe the perjured lover long. 

Now blooming gardens, clustering groves, 
Broad fields of dark luxuriant green, 

And rows of trees in long alcoves, 
Wave in a sea of silver sheen ! 

* Henry Clay. t Mrs. Beauchamp. 



1 1 4 VIEW FROM MOUNT ADAMS. 

White mansions far around appear, 

Snug nestled in their bowers of green ; 

And yelping packs just reach the ear, 
That chase the sly fox to his den. 

But o'er the city's growing din 

Spread rolling smoke-clouds every way ; 
And morning's beauties vanish in 

The heat and bustle of the day. 









A QUERY. 

,HEY say my eyes are diamonds 
bright, — 
Filled with such flashing, kindling 
light 
As seems to pierce them through ; 
That every glance is worth a mine, 
Or worth at least a poet's line : — 
I 'm not so sure. Are you ? 

They say my thoughts are strings of pearl, 
Well bought with rent-roll of an earl, 

Though whispered, and but few ; 
My rhymes are true poetic fire, 
Caught from Apollo's sun-kissed lyre : — 

I 'm not so sure. Are you ? 



Ii6 A QUERY. 

They say my voice is soft and low, — 
Which, some one says, should e'er be so, 

And some one ought to know ; 
That every tone sinks to the heart, 
With strange, mesmeric, magic art : — 

I 'm not so sure. Are you ? 

They say some wondrous other things, 
And talk about a boy with wings, 

The blind, yet seeing too ! 
Which makes me laugh within my sleeve : 
Such nonsense / can ne'er believe, 

I 'm very sure. Can you ? 






THE CURL CUT FROM MY TEMPLE. 

O to her breast, my envied Curl, 
And if you there seem loosed and 
lost, 
Cling to the rose-bud hills of pearl 

On which 't were heaven to be so tossed. 
Cling, cling, with every silken ring, 

As if my temples throbbed above ; 
And, truant ! when you closest cling, 
Tell her you grew on thoughts of love ! 

O wildly envied ! — you will sleep 

Upon that bed more white than snow, 

While passionately past will creep 
The warm and voiceless veins below. 



Il8 THE CURL CUT FROM MY TEMPLE. 

And you will hear her soft lips sever 

When thoughts of love grow wild beneath ; 

Then, truant ! if you loved me ever, 
List, if in sleep my name she breathe. 

She '11 wake, — and round those dainty fingers 

Your tangled mesh will fondly creep ; 
Or, while her dream of passion lingers, 

She '11 press you to her lips in sleep. 
But when amid her fragrant breath 

Each silken fibre trembling stirs, 
O truant ! tell her, until death 

My life, my soul, thus thrills to hers ! 




PRIMEVAL TEXAN SCENERY. 




The following poem is an effort to preserve a picture of scenes that will, 
to a great extent, have passed away a few years hence. 



OME, my Flora, let us go 
Where the fair magnolias blow ; 
Where the clear and rippling stream 

Glances in the sunny beam, 

And the cane in matted ranks 

Waves so green along its banks ; 

Where o'er many a vale and hill 

Spreads the ancient forest still, 

And no tree of all its pride 

From the invading axe has died ; 

Where through prairies, green and wide, 

Shade-embosomed waters glide ; 



I2 o PRIMEVAL TEXAN SCENERY. 

And where music, sweet and clear, 
Myriad-warbled charms the ear, 
From the birds which all along 
Fill the wooded stream with song, — 
Save when drowned by gales that raid, 
Sallying through the twinkling shade, 
And o'er verdure's silver lining, 
Where the fragrant flowers are shining. 
See what palace-roof of shade 
O'er yon pool the branches braid ; 
And the sportive muscadine, 
Dense the lofty shade to twine, 
Weaves across from tree to tree 
Blooming rich embroidery, 
Whence the minstrels forest-born 
Wake and cheer the summer's morn. 
In the pool glide thick about 
Golden perch and silvery trout ; 
From the deep and sedgy nook 
Quick they seize the baited hook, 



PRIMEVAL TEXAN SCENERY. I2 i 

Yielding many an hour of joy 
To the angling truant boy. 
Scattered here and there are seen 
Vigorous hollies darkly green, 
That with berries scarlet red 
Soon will fairer beauty shed. 
Round the moist and moss-green rock 
Yellow gleams the water-dock ; 
And from boughs that reach across, 
Hangs the long gray southern moss. 
Shaggy cedars, near above, 
Tuft the gray and rifted bluff ; 
Sometimes bending forth to see 
Their own beauteous symmetry, 
In the mirror pool below, 
Like the trees which round it grow. 

Tread we now the myrtle glade, 
Through the cool and solid shade ; 
Nature's court it seems to be, 

6 



122 PRIMEVAL TEXAN SCENERY. 

Where she holds her revelry. 
What a ceiling high o'erhead 
Rests on living pillars spread ! 
What a massive colonnade 
Stretches down the widening glade ! 
Not a limb obstructs the view, 
Scarce a sun-glance flashes through ; 
Not a bush is in the woods 
Save the myrtle sisterhoods, 
And the rose that droopingly 
Hangs out in the vacancy ; 
While the ground afar and nigh 
Glows with green and flow'ry dye, 
As the broad, clear sky of night 
Beams with blue and starry light. 
Here the idle Zephyrs rest, 
And on fragrant coolness feast ; 
O'er the waving myrtles stray, 
And on beds of violets play ; 
Then in foliage hide around, 



PRIMEVAL TEXAN SCENERY. ^3 

Whence with sweet ^Eolian sound 
Rush they from these sylvan halls, 
Where the sultry prairie calls. 
Nimble squirrels frisk around, — 
Everywhere their chatterings sound ; 
Here and there a clear, sweet note 
Issues from some warbler's throat ; 
Turkeys wild, with gobblings shrill, 
Far and wide the forest fill, 
While the pheasant drums mock thunder 
Faintly in the copses under, 
And the huntsman, glad to hear, 
Cautiously approaches near. 
See the spotted fawn, and, lo ! 
Yonder stands the antlered row, 
Staring, turning, whistling, then 
Bounding away over hill and glen. 
Now they halt, and turn to see 
Whether more of danger be ; 
But again their instincts keen 



124 PRIMEVAL TEXAN SCENERY. 

Smell some human foe unseen ; 
And swift whirling, off to run — 
Hark ! the deadly crack of gun ! 
Ah ! the rifle's whizzing ball 
Dooms their pride and chief to fall ! 
Here they come, — their death to shun ; 
Down he drops, — his strength is gone ! 
Thus he 's doomed from them to sever, 
Thus they part from him forever. 
Darker flows the crimson tide 
Down his beauteous glossy side. 
How he struggles hard with death ; 
How he catches for his breath ! 
Now his large, mild hazel eye 
Bends on us — then shuts — to die ! 
Turn we now our thoughts and eyes 
From the ruthless hunter's prize. 

Yonder bright'ning glow of light 
Shows a prairie is in sight ; 



PRIMEVAL TEXAN SCENERY. I2 $ 

What a vast and charming scene ! 

Vision scarce can grasp it in, 

Fading far in blue away, 

Though o'erflushed with gorgeous day. 

Not a city shines so fair 

To the approaching traveller ; 

Pisgah showed no lovelier sight 

To the mighty Israelite. 

Far and farther still outspread 

Meadows flecked with isles of shade. - 

O'er them waves of verdure roll 

Like the sea's when winds control ; 

For unchecked by hills or woods, 

Here in all their multitudes, 

Winds and flowers revel free, 

Banded in their love and glee. 

And in every bowery isle, 

Radiant with the morning's smile, 

Where the spring has open laid 

Buds of sweetness with the shade, 



126 PRIMEVAL TEXAN SCENERY. 

Like a thousand fairy tongues 
Swells the choir of insect throngs. 
On the winding slopes and plains 
Graze the deer, and stalk the cranes ; 
And in the deep solitude 
Of these plains, by stream and wood, 
Where the wolf-band hungry howls, 
And the fearless panther prowls, 
Sport the mustangs numerously, 
Glorying in their liberty. 
Swifter than the wind they fly 
When a human form they spy ; 
And with rim of deadly hoof 
Beat the gaunt wolf phalanx off. * 
Flocks of speckled prairie-hens 
Dwell in all the seedy glens ; 

* When a herd of mustangs, or wild horses, is attacked 
by a pack of wolves, the mustangs instantly form a circle, 
with their heads together and their hind parts out. They 
then strike off the wolves with a circular battery of kicking, 
until the latter are willing to search for a feast somewhere else. 



PRIMEVAL TEXAN SCENERY. 

And with swift wing, whirring light, 
Make they many an arch of flight. 
Rising from his prairie nest, 
With a rapture-swelling breast, 
Up till eye can scarce descry, 
Soars the lark into the sky, 
Thus to sing his praise and cheer 
Nearest to his Maker's ear ; 
Poised on fluttering wings above, 
Forth he pours his soul of love. 
Sometimes on the sky's pure blue, 
Far beyond discerning view, 
Some gay robin, gliding along, 
Leaves a trail of sweetest son°- 

o 

And from some lone border tree, 
With full life and ecstasy 
Pours the mocking-bird his lay, 
Mimics all, and leads astray ; 
Master of the warbling list, 
Critic and ventriloquist. 



128 PRIMEVAL TEXAN SCENERY. 

Now and then aloft he springs, 

Thus to show 't is he that sings, 

Or to catch his soul again, 

That fled with the last sweet strain. 

Geese, with sweetly pensive note, 

Northward seek their home remote ; 

And the eagles far away 

In the aerial ocean play. 

Flocks of clouds in silvery sheen 

Hover scattered o'er the scene, 

Pastured by the Sun on high 

In the blue fields of the sky ; 

And oft seem to look below, 

With love's sympathetic glow. 

To the left, far as the main, 
Nature seems o'er all to reign, 
Like some goddess while the world 
Lay in all its youth unfurled ; 
Her own boundless farm it seems. 



PRIMEVAL TEXAN SCENERY. 129 

That with all her plenty teems, 
Where the peaceful centuries 
Glide away in silent bliss. 

To the right, far from the strand, 
Rises high the prairie land ; 
One long bay of richest soil, 
Quick to sun and light to toil, 
Walled in green by towering trees, 
And a creek that nurtures these. 
Here the vigorous settlement 
Of some daring emigrant x 
Gleams in fields and gardens out, 
And in flocks that graze about ; — 
A broad plateau of world-wide view, 
'Twixt gleaming sea and mountains blue ; 
Fair as some Acadia found, 
Or a Canaan's hallowed ground, 
That still shows to finder's eyes 
Glimpses of old Paradise. 
6* 



I3 o PRIMEVAL TEXAN SCENERY. 

Here the fig shall bloom and bear 

Through all seasons of the year ; 

Here the peach shall feed by day 

In the sweetening solar ray ; 

And in myriads plums gleam through, 

Flushed with ripening gold or blue. 

Here the purple-clustered vine 

Overwhelmed with fruit shall shine ; 

Melons huge shall everywhere 

Over sheltering vine-leaves peer ; 

Other vines the soil shall screen 

With still richer maze of green ; 

And the sweet potatoes under 

Shall in size become a wonder, 

While such honeyed saccharine swells them 

That in baking half it melts them. 

Here, in happy times of peace, 

Cotton-plants shall flower and fleece ; 

And in giant size shall be 

Like some vegetable tree, 2 



PRIMEVAL TEXAN SCENERY. 

When they find their genial home 
In some cany bottom loam. 
Here the sugar-cane shall grow 
Till it hides the ground below ; 
And when leaves with autumn gleam 
Everywhere the juice shall stream 
In sweet rills of liquid treasure, 
From the mill's cylindric pressure. 
Here the maize shall twice a year 
Bear the ripe and bending ear. 
Here abundant toilsome bees, 
Housed in hives or forest-trees, 
Shall bring honey all the year, 
From the woods and prairies near. 
Snow-white lambs that run and bleat, 
And in merry gambols meet, 
Distant hills shall ever show ; 
While on richer plains below, 
And on knolls forever green, 
Herds of grazing kine are seen. 



131 



I 3 2 PRIMEVAL TEXAN SCENERY. 

Thus the land, uncursed with money, 
Yet shall flow with milk and honey, — 
One bright wreath of rural joys 
Where no want or care annoys, 
Where true love and peace shall e'er 
Every heart to heart endear, 
And the farmer e'er shall find 
Social bliss among his kind, 
While the genial clime and soil 
Cheer his soul, and pay his toil 

Happiest mode of man's employ. 
Surest way to worldly joy ; 
Scene remote from teeming life, 
Its great hardships, sins, and strife ; 
Far from towns, — their filth and guile, 
Deadly pests and loud turmoil ; 
Lonely as some tropic isle, 
Where the lover and his love 
As again in Eden rove. 



PRIMEVAL TEXAN SCENERY. 

Here no Future's cloud of dread 
Shades the worldly life ahead ; 
Plearts are free, and may refuse 
What the soul would never choose, 
Save when bending in its strife 
With the social ills of life. 
Bounteous Nature's daily guest, 
Man toils lightly, and feels blest ; 
Draws direct from God supplies, 
Who ne'er disappoints nor lies ; 
And must not, of want afraid, 
Sink his manhood in his trade ; 
Nor, from nature fair shut in, 
Must he grow a mere machine, 
Buried in some factory's grave, 
Through his life a pining slave : 
For, whate'er the wise may say, 
Work is pleasant but while play ; 
Or while we see in the gain 
Greater good than present pain, 



133 



I3 4 PRIMEVAL TEXAN SCEAERY. 

Or that there will be years hence 
Rest and ease and competence. 

Pause we now awhile to see 
All the forms of industry, 
Which o'er this fair rural scene 
Tell of life and bliss serene. 
See how many a chimney's blue 
Rises lively to the view, 
Where the happy mother early 
Cares for him she loves most dearly. 
See how many a shining plough 
Turns the loose dark furrow now, 
Burying deep the sweet young green, 
And upturning worms within. 
Maidens sing around the dairy ; 
And on school-path, through the prairie, 
Where in colors bright and dainty 
Wild-flowers spring in myriad plenty, 
Children rosy-faced and singing 



PRIMEVAL TEXAN SCENERY. ^ 

Hie to meet the school-bell's ringing. 

Wooing bluebirds sweetly twitter ; 

Clouds of blackbirds whirl and glitter, 

Or in showers of minstrelsy 

Load like fruit some patriarch tree ; 

While through all ring faint as dream 

Barking squirrel and purling stream. 

All is busy, all is gay, 

On this balmy vernal day : 

Warblings in the sprouting shade ; 
Lowings on the grassy glade ; 
Neighings of the lively steed, 
Prancing o'er the pasture mead ; 
Breezes out a violet-hunting- • 
Flowering grapes their sweetness venting ; 
Cypress vines so dainty climbing, 
Where the children's mirth rings chiming ; 
Chasing hounds, with yelping noise ; 
Hunter's horn and cheering voice ; 
Martins twittering, partlets singing, 



136 PRIMEVAL TEXAN SCENERY. 

Mill-wheel fluttering, anvil ringing ; — 
All is busy, all is gay, 
On this balmy vernal day. 

Although the reign I love to see, 

Of science, arts, and industry ; 

Yet, when I think of scenes that were, 

Or to the Indian race recur, 

And then think of their present state, 

I pity the poor Indian's fate. 

Here once gleamed the council fire, 
Eloquence untutored flowed, 

Till for deeds most brave and dire 
Every warrior's bosom glowed. 

Undisturbed by fire-arms' rattle, 
Squaws the cosey wigwam made, 

Warriors strove in feast and battle, 
Sachems rested in the shade. 



PRIMEVAL TEXAN SCENERY. 1 <,y 

Here they gave the belt of wampum, 
Smoked the calumet of peace ; 

And around the evening camp-home, 
Shared the spoils of war and chase. 

Here the patriarch, as in Canaan, 
Viewed his happy race around ; 

And a wealth for their maintaining-, 
In spontaneous plenty found. 

Here roamed numerous, deer and turkey, 
O'er the still and blooming wild ; 

And in cane-brakes green and murky, 
Bears lay hid, and beavers toiled. 

Mustangs fleet, and buffaloes burly, 
Feeding grouped in isles around 

Where blue sky, or white cloud curly, 
Stooped to touch earth's farthest bound. 



I3 8 PRIMEVAL TEXAN SCENERY. 

Ducks and geese in swarming plenty, 
Sojourned through the winter bare ; 

And when other means grew scanty, 
Gave abundant dainty fare. 

Here the mocking-bird at even 
Sung upon the live-oak's crown, 

Till the listening stars of heaven 

Looked in throngs and wonder down. 

Here the forest, vast, primeval, 
In its grandest glory grew ; 

And no civilization's evil 

Nature and her children knew. 

Here no loathsome grim diseases, 
And no conscience-stinging vice, 

Nor the wealth that can oppress us, 
Filled with woe the earth and skies. 



PRIMEVAL TEXAN SCENERY. I $g 

Nature's wants were few and simple, 
And the chase gave robust health ; 

Bower and sky to man were temple, 
Every gift and beauty wealth. 



Oft across the shadowy waters, 
On the tranquil summer's eve, 

Light canoes, with lads and daughters, 
Might be seen their way to cleave. 

And the woodlands green or golden, 
Showered with nuts or berries through, 

Bands of jovial ramblers strolled in, 
And the quail and squirrel too. 

Oft the youth lay here reposing 
In the dark magnolian shade, 

Or his love-pained heart disclosing 
To some black-haired olive maid. 



4 PRIMEVAL TEXAN SCEXERY. 

Here the damsel, fond of pleasing, 
Decked her head with roses wild ; 

Void of coquet arts of teasing, 
Pure and artless as a child. 

Here upon her Hiawatha 
Cinctured in his trophy belt, 

Gazed the fond young Minnehaha 
With the sweetest love e'er felt. 

But their tribes and works have vanished ; 

Scarce a relic can be found, 
Save of arms which once they brandished, 

And the unheeded burial mound. 

Low they lie where last contending 
For their rights and native soil ; 

Or they are life in exile spending, 
Suffering hunger, cold, and toil. 



PRIMEVAL TEXAN SCENERY. 141 

To the out-door far West driven, 
Friendless skies and famine soil ; 

And to self-destruction * given, 

Or the white man's selfish guile, — 

Like a bank that waves are wasting, 
Like a cloud in desert clime, 

Like a day to sunset hasting, 

Pass they from the world and time. 

Though the Indian left the lands 
To the conquering squatter bands ; 
Yet when he had passed away, 
Long roamed fiercely beasts of prey. 
Here the ruthless panther prowled, 
Here the night wolf hungry howled ; 
And more dreaded far than they, 
Jaguars f in the jungles lay. 

* By being huddled together, so as to make war upon 
one another. 

t An animal larger and fiercer than the panther, and 
usually called, in Texas, the South-American lion. 



I 4 2 PRIMEVAL TEXAN SCENERY. 

Oft the lonely pioneer, 
Journeying through the forests here, 
Where for days no house he found, 
Nor a human sign or sound, 
All night by his fire must lie, 
Watching for some glaring eye. 
But the wolves in squad array 
Chiefly held nocturnal sway ; 
Close the infant grappled when 
Near their hideous howl began, 
Or the rallying flocks distressed 
Roused the farmer from his rest, 
Or the mastiff, fierce at bay 
While they searched the yard for prey > 
Having chased him just before 
With a rush beneath the floor, 
And with teeth whose snapping din 
Even the sleepers heard within.3 
But at times more direful still 
Rose the distant war-whoop shrill, 



PRIMEVAL TEXAN SCENERY. ^3 

That roused all with trembling fear, 
As it told of massacre : 
For revenge undying burns, 
And the Indian still returns, 
His deep-rooted wrath to wreak. — 
Hark ! that horrid yell, — that shriek, — 
Glowing smoke, ascending high, 
Shows the deed, and danger nigh ! 
But where shall the lookers-on 
Flee at night their death to shun ? 
Warriors grim are lurking round 
Where an ambush can be found ; 
And the night is dark and dreary, 
Forts are far, the weak soon weary. 
Yet with terror-beating heart, 
Through the dark the exiles dart ; 
While their boding fancies see 
Every Indian cruelty : — 
Skulls and brains asunder hewn ; 
Limbs cut off, and quivering strewn ; 



144 PRIMEVAL TEX AX SCENERY. 

Human blood with war-whoop toasted ; 
Human flesh for eating roasted ; 
Suppliant's locks seized by the foe, 
While the knife runs round below, 
Or the hatchet 's driven in 
With sardonic mock and grin ; 
Scalps and tomahawks that drip ; 
Faces black from choker's grip ; 
Mothers dead at hearth-stones lying, 
Infants at the nipple dying ; 
Children gagged or dashed to death, 
As they wept on captor's path ; 
Wretch as target bound to tree, 
Till by arrowy death set free ; 
Wretch who must at stake expire 
By a slow-consuming fire ; 
Wretch who must the gauntlet run 
Through all deaths and fiendish fun ; 
Wretch who finds an early grave 
From the daily woes of slave ! 



PRIMEVAL TEXAN SCENERY, 1.45 

Naked giants, painted hideous, 
That rush forth from haunts insidious. 
Eagles' feathers, claws of bear, 
Panthers' skins and eyes they wear ; 
All the terrors of the wild 
That can frighten man or child. 
Everywhere they slay, and yell 
Worse than raving fiends from hell ; 
Nor from slaughter will refrain, 
Till a desert 's made again ! 

O what danger, toil, and pain, 
Did the pioneer sustain ! 
But a scene to cheer and bless 
Was the teeming wilderness. 
For the pleasures of the chase 
And a beauteous dwelling-place, 
For the wealth of nature round 
And the solitude profound, 
Home he left with all its charms, 
7 J 



146 PRIMEVAL TEXAN SCENERY. 

Danger dared in all its forms. 
In the woods and prairies vast, 
Through the interval which passed 
Till the land was repossessed, 
Myriad-like all game increased. 4 
Man and want they never knew, 
And domestic-tame they grew. 
Luscious verdure all the year 
Fed the buffalo and deer. 
Down the long and jungled creek, 
And where oaks the prairies break, 
Nuts and acorns plenteous lay 
Till beyond the following May ; 
Bear and 'coon, from year to year, 
Lived in peace and fatness there. 
Showered with nuts, the wild pecan 
Gleamed out soon as leaves were gone ; 
While the knolls of hazel near, 
Heavier drooped with burden fair. 
Other trees, with vines o'errun, 



PRIMEVAL TEXAN SCENERY. i 4 y 

In the pride of Canaan shone, — 
Rounded, crowned, and clustered o'er, 
With the grape's cerulean store ; 
Or from bush on bank and beach, 
Clusters hung in easy reach. 
Dewberries, 'midst the summer's heat, 
In all valleys ripened sweet ; 
Mulberries black, and large as thumb, 
Grew beside the juicy plum ; 
While a clime, forever mild, 
Crowned the peaceful, blooming wild. 

Such was once that golden age 
Sung by bard and praised by sage ; 
But no worldly joys last long, 
Woes into all pleasures throng, 
Serpents seek the flow'riest bed, 
Life and bliss to death are wed, 
Clouds may shade the fairest day, 
Storms prevent the world's decay. 



148 PRIMEVAL TEXAN SCENERY. 

Soon the strife for freedom came, 
Fields of blood and towns of flame ; 
Mexico her treacherous horde 
In like blasting locusts poured ; 
But they were met as once of yore 
Persians on the Grecian shore. 
Though defenders were but few, 
Yet they were a valiant crew ; 
Bravest of the brave were they, 
And ne'er shunned but sought the fray ; 
Nor desisted from the strife 
Till fair Freedom sprung to life, 
And they 'd rescued all their land 
From the invading conqueror's hand. 
Though they suffered want and woe, 
And the ravage of the foe ; 
Though their noblest manhood fell 
In the storms of shot and shell ; 
Though all mortal ills upsprung 
Which to weakness ever clung — 



PRIMEVAL TEXAN SCENERY. i^g 

Sickness, death, and Indians dire, 
Preying wolves and sweeping fire, — 
Yet they never ceased to cope, 
Nor abated heart or hope, 
Even in the darkest day, 
Till they taught the foe that they, 
Though o'erwhelmed with sword and pen, 
Knew their rights, and dared maintain ! 



Now the storm of war is past, 
And the rack is fleeing fast. 
Peace, like sunshine, comes again ; 
Nature hails the joyful reign. 
Skies wear not a boding look ; 
Flowers spring fairer by the brook ; 
Birds' sweet carols wake each morrow, 
Less that seeming tinge of sorrow ; 
Farms that wasted long have lain, 
In their charms revive again ; 



150 PRIMEVAL TEXAN SCENERY. 

Bustling trade and conquering arts 
Rise again in peopled marts ; 
Factories ply, with cosey hum, 
Busy spindle, wheel, and loom ; 
Commerce spreads again his sail 
To the wooing breeze and gale ; 
Learning lends her lamp divine 
To illume Invention's mine ; 
Music's mellow concords rise 
When the sunset gilds the skies, 
Telling tales of rest and ease 
And abundant fruits of peace ; 
Church-bell sweet no longer tolls 
Mournful exits of brave souls ; 
Nor does nightly torch throw light 
O'er the war-field's funeral rite, — 
But each night some cheerful star 
Radiates from each household far, 
Where light tasks and social love 
Life and happiness improve. 



PRIME VA L TEX A N SCENE R Y. 1 $ l 

Emigrants unceasing come 
Here to find a happy home. 
Many a tent gleams snowy white 
In the early morning light, 
Where the new-come settler roves, 
Or has found the nook he loves. 
All the land is spotting o'er 
With plantations ; and the shore, 
Fringed with isles of sunny green, 
And deep harbors' tranquil sheen, 
Soon the Gulf with towns shall gem 
Like a starry diadem. 

Here let us, too, be content ; 
Life 'mid rural scenes be spent ; 
Keep a hospitable roof, 
And from worldly strife aloof ; 
Rightly use the days that fly ; 
Happy live, and hopeful die. 
1857. 



IC2 PRIMEVAL TEXAN SCENERY. 



NOTES. 

Note i, page 129. 

Here the vigorous settlement 
Of some daring emigrant, etc. 

Texas, like most new countries, was settled by 
emigrants somewhat in the following manner : The 
most beautiful and productive, or the most eligible 
sections of the country, were first selected by pio- 
neers ; and in each of these sections a small cluster 
of them would settle down together, for the sake 
of defense and sociability. Such a settlement was 
usually named in honor of the first pioneer or set- 
tler, or in honor of the leader or principal man of 
the band of settlers ; just as we have in Missouri 
"Boone's Settlement/' thence "Boone County" 
and " Booneville," all named in honor of Daniel 
Boone of Kentucky, who died in Missouri, and was 
scarcely less a pioneer of Missouri than of Ken 
tucky. These primitive settlements were generally 
most exemplary specimens of Acadian simplicity, 
honesty, comfort, virtue, sociability, and friendship. 
The distance from one settlement to another varied 
from ten to fifty miles ; so that the very solitude 
around the settlements served to knit the people 
more closely together in the bonds of affection than 



PRIMEVAL TEXAN SCENERY. 



153 



they ever are in a completely inhabited country. 
The surrounding wilderness also furnished for a 
long time most delightful hunting-grounds and 
common pasturage for the settlement. As soon 
as "new-comers" began to occupy the lands of 
the intervening wilderness, the old pioneers or set- 
tlers would begin to lament that "people were 
getting too thick"; and they would then "sell out," 
and again seek the frontier, — thus ever verging on 
the wilderness as the surf of the ocean runs along 
the shore. Afterwards, when the country was di- 
vided into counties, the name of the settlement was 
not unfrequently given to the new county which 
contained it. 

Note. 2, page 130. 

And in giant size shall be 
Like some vegetable tree, etc. 

When a massive cane-brake is destroyed for the 
purpose of making a field of the ground, the decay- 
ing cane-roots, and the accustomed energy of the 
soil required to sustain the cane-brake, make the 
land so exceedingly productive that the writer of 
this has seen the limbs of cotton-plants in such 
places still meet even when the cotton had been 
planted nine feet apart ; and when a lad, he and 
some other boys once climbed such cotton-stalks 
several feet, simply by stepping on and holding 
to the limbs of the stalk. 
7* 



154 PRIMEVAL TEXAN SCENERY. 

Note 3, page 142. 

And with teeth whose snapping din 
Even the sleepers heard within, etc. 

During the first year of our residence in Texas, 
we lived on a high knoll in a beautiful prairie, 
half a mile from the surrounding forest. We were 
often awaked at night by the long, melancholy, and 
hideous howlings of bands of wolves that foraged 
around the borders of the prairie. Their howl 
seemed to my boyish imagination like the com- 
mingled wail and vengeful raving of a hundred 
subterranean fiends, breaking forth into the distant 
air, and swelling in fullness and clearness of sound. 
We had taken with us from the North a large and 
fierce bull-dog ; but the wolves, on several occa- 
sions, chased him at night under the house, with 
such fierce and loud snapping of their white, gnash- 
ing teeth, that we could distinctly hear it in the 
house ; though they never pursued him under the 
floor, as the wolf is too cautious ever to go where 
he cannot see his surroundings. It is perhaps 
needless to add, that we always endeavored to 
greet these intrusive lords of the forest with such 
appliance of powder and lead as made their un- 
timely visits less and less frequent. 



PRIMEVAL TEXAN SCENERY. 155 

Note 4, page 146. 

Till the land was repossessed, 
Myriad-like all ga?ne increased, etc. 

During the undisturbed interval of ten or fifteen 
years, between the exit of the Indian tribes and any 
considerable occupancy of the country on the part 
of whites, all kinds of game in Texas multiplied 
to a wonderful degree. When a lad, I journeyed 
through that country in company with a friend. 
Sometimes we saw more than a hundred deer feed- 
ing together in one gang in the prairie; and at 
places where we encamped during the night, we 
could frequently see, as we came out of our tent in 
the morning, deer in three or four different direc- 
tions from the camp. Wild turkeys also gobbled 
vigorously every morning in all directions ; and 
they were so abundant along the wooded streams, 
that sometimes hundreds could be seen in a flock, 
or in a succession of flocks. Indeed, the whole 
country looked like one immense pastoral farm, 
ruled by and belonging to the Deity of the Wil- 
derness. — See last line of page 128. 



FRAGMENTS. 



GLORY. 

S Earth's volcanic spasms must up- 
throw 
The precious ores and gems of all 
her climes, 
So nations can their glorious traits but show 
By the stern trials of tempestuous times. 




BONAPARTE AND WASHINGTON. 



Ambition's power and glory must decay ; 
But Virtue's works shall crown the Judgment 
Day. 



FRAGMENTS. i$y 



ALEXANDRINES. 

" A needless Alexandrine ends the song, 
That, like a wounded snake, drags its slow length along." 

Pope. 

A brimming Alexandrine comes along, 
And, rich as -music's close, varies and crowns 
the song. 



A CERTAIN HOTEL. 

It smells like a hospital, looks like a dungeon ; 
And millions of flies wait to help eat your 
luncheon. 

Columbia, Mo., July, 1857. 

WASHINGTON CITY. 

THE COMMON OPINION POETIZED. 

As the full moon in clearest splendor rose, 
The man therein was seen to catch his nose ; 
And close he held it, with a nasty grin, 
Till high above that slough of fraud and sin 



158 FRAGMENTS. 

ON NAMING CHILDREN. 

I would not be a great man ; for I think you 

will agree, 
All blockheads, scamps, and vagabonds would 

be named after me. 



Her name was full of golden words, and long 

as any river ; 
So I concluded that was all her folks e'er meant 

to give her. 



Poor creature ! what a horrid name ! 

Than triple-Russianed Russian worse ; 
Through life a laughter and a shame, — 

'T was surely given for a curse ! 



FRAGMENTS. ^9 

THE UNITED STATES. 

Blest land for ev'ry genius, — paradise 
For every ism^pathy^ ics, and ology ; 

Where every knave of tact and enterprise 
Finds room and fools for nostrums and ma- 
crology,* 

And makes his pile before his dupes are wise ; 
Or, having set up some high-sounding col- 
lege, he 

Becomes the panaceist of the nation, 

And spreads our glory over all creation ! 



EPITAPH ON THE HON. 



A little ugly man in flesh and soul, 
To see the right as stupid as a log ; 

A thorough tyrant where he could control, 
And, where best known, declared a perfect 
hog! 

* Familiarly called buncombe. 



!5o FRAGMENTS. 

CONSCIENCE. 

Ah ! can itself the spirit shun, 
Soon as the guilty deed is done ? 
Can all this world one joy impart, 
When hell itself boils in heart ? 

BENTON AND MISSOURI. 

(See debates of the Missouri Legislature of 1858.) 

His substance, life, genius, all freely he gave, 
And then she begrudged e'en a stone for his 
grave. 

SUMMER. 

In the silver of sun-glow the waters are glan- 
cing ; 

To the music of Zephyr the light leaves are 
dancing ; 

And silver-white clouds trail their delicate 
shadows, 

Over gold-rippling harvests and dark-heaving 
meadows. 
Osage River, Mo. 




TO FLORA. 




LOVELY as the fairest light 
On flashing waters playing, 
And gentle as the dreams of night 
Through childhood's fancy straying, 
And sweet as is the summer dew, 

On violet beds descending, 
My thoughts of thee uprise to view, 
With memory's visions blending. 

Then when the holy silent night 
Its charms o'er thee is flinging, 

When loved ones beam upon thy sight, 
And fairy tones seem ringing, 

Let but one thought of me intrude 
When Memory thus is stealing 

Her charms from time and solitude, 



And absent forms revealing:. 




EYES. 



•^f^. LOVE the eye that looks an azure 

llfl World ; 

£ffi»! For then I dream of skies and all 

their blueness, 

Or violets in their own mute worth impearled, 

Which show me beauty in their youth and 
newness. 
I love the eye that seems a thunder-cloud, — 

The stormy black one, flinging out its fire : 
There is a hidden home behind its shroud, 

Where all the spirits of young love retire. 
I love the gray eye, — though the least of all, — 
Whose look is like the evening's silent fall ; 
An indistinct, unsettled kind of light, 
The mingled poetry of day and night. 
But blue, or black, or gray, or more uncommon, 
I love them all when they belong to woman. 








WINTER. 




OW, while the rear-guard of the 
flying year, 
Rugged December, on the season's 



Marshals his pale days to the mournful dirge 
Of muffled winds in distant forests drear, 
Good friend ! turn with me to our in-door cheer. 
Draw nigh ; the huge flames roar upon the 

hearth, 
And this sly sparkler, of the subtlest birth 
And a rich vintage, poets' souls hold dear. 
Mark, how the sweet rogue woos us ! set 
thee down ; 



164 



WINTER. 



And we will quaff, and quaff, and drink our fill, 
Until the blasts shall seem to wail no more, 
Nor ocean's billows roar along the shore, 
But silver-ringing clarions seem to thrill, 
And shouts of triumph peal from hill to hill. 





ON THE BLUE RIDGE. 




ERE let me pause, by the lone eagle's 
nest ; 
And breathe the golden sunlight 
and pure air, 
Which gird and gladden all this region fair 
With a perpetual benison of rest. 
Like a grand purpose that a God has blest, 
The immemorial mountain seems to rise, 
Yearning to overtop diviner skies, 
Though monarch of the pomp of east and west. 
And, pondering here, the genius of the height 
Quickens my soul as if an angel spake ; 



1 66 ON THE BLUE RIDGE. 

And I can feel old chains of custom break, 
And strong ambitions start to win the light, 
A calm resolve born with them, in whose 
might 
I thank thee, Heaven ! that noble thoughts 
awake. 



Night drives out day ; the sun the verge has 
passed, 
Or glows behind the mountains blue and 
high : 
Twilight and rest steal o'er the hills at last, 
And angel watchmen light the dusky sky. 
Across the eastern mountains far I came, 
And deemed I should be happier by the 
change ; 
But place still leaves the anxious heart the same, 
And bliss must spring within where'er we 
range. 



ON THE BLUE RIDGE. Y Cy 

Sunsets and rainbows and the star-lit blue, 
Earth's glories and the sky's are in the mind ; 

The heart must give the universe its hue, 
And there 's no beauty where the soul is blind. 

We bear within us that which makes us blest, 

Or heaven and hell are carried in the breast. 






THE TWO TWILIGHTS. 



HERE are two twilights, — each a 
lamp-lit vase : 
One, when the bells ring matins, 
in the east 
Blushes with inner flame like ember mist 
Dim-glimmering, ere dawn, through grayish 

haze ; 
So beautiful the gradual lustre plays, — 

First faint, then purple-tinted, then increased, 
Then flashed to nothing by keen daylight's 
blaze. 
The other in the deep-illumined west, 
Upon an altar in draped crimson dressed, 



THE TWO TWILIGHTS. l6g 

Stands o'er the sunken sun ; of purest gold 
Is the rich lamp within, — now amethyst 
And rose and alabaster its fine mould ; 
And as above grows dim the golden mist, 
Behind a trellis-work of opal bars 
It glows — it fades — 'tis quenched, — pierced 
through with arrowy stars. 

ii. 
And all around these magic vases two, 

Fancy can see aerial imagery, 

In sculptured form and deep transparency, 
Mirrored suggestive to the raptured view. 
On one are marked spring's earliest birds of blue, 

A pair of lovers coming through the rye, 

A huntsman with his horn uplifted high, 
And full-blown lilacs diamonded with dew. 

The other shows a spire behind some trees, 
An eastern hermit musing neath a palm, 

St. John in Patmos on his holy knees, 
8 



i7o 



THE TWO TWILIGHTS. 



A heaven-eyed virgin chanting a low psalm, 
A brace of ring-doves floating down the 
breeze, 
And a young Saviour sporting with a lamb. 





13 




THE DESPAIR OF GRIEF. 

ON THE DEATH OF A BROTHER. 

; 00 oft the poet, in elaborate verse, 
Flushed with quaint images and 
gorgeous tropes, 
Casteth a doubtful light which is not Hope's 
On the dark spot where Death has set his 
curse 
In monumental silence. Nature starts 
Indignant from the sacrilege of words 
That ring so hollow, and forlornly girds 

Her great woe round her : there 's no trick of 
Art's 



1 72 THE DESPAIR OF GRIEF. 

But shows most ghastly by a new-made tomb. — 

I see no balm in Gilead, — he is lost ! 
The beautiful soul that loved me, my life's 
bloom, 
Is withered by a sudden blighting frost ! — 
O Grief! how mighty ! — Creeds ! how vain ye 

are ! — 
Earth presses closely. — Heaven seems cold 
and far ! 




MUTABILITY 




HERE 'S a sigh in the heart 
When I sit and muse o'er 
The joys of my life, 
Which can be mine no more. 



There 's a sigh in the heart 
When I think of the grave 

Where the good angel sleeps 
Who my life to me gave. 



There 's a sigh in the heart 
When I think of her love, 

As pure and as deep 
As the angels' above. 



174 



MUTABILITY. 

There 's a sigh in the heart 
For the bud by her side ; 

While we loved her the most, 
She faded and died ! 

There 's a sigh in the heart 
For that far and sad tomb, 

Where our youngest was laid 
In his manhood and bloom ! 

There 's a sigh in the heart 
For the cottage decayed, 

Which us children housed all, 
And around which we played. 

There 's a sigh in the heart 

When I reflect how, 
In the world and the grave, 

We are all scattered now ! 



MUTABILITY. 

There 's a sigh in the heart 
For that good little home ; 

I find none else so dear, 
Wheresoever I roam. 



There 's a sigh in the heart 
For that sweet nest of love, 

Where we prayed morn and eve 
To the Being above. 



There 's a sigh in the heart 

For that home's vanished joys, — 

The orchard, lawn, fountain, 
Books, pictures, and toys. 

There 's a sigh in the heart 

For its holidays bright, 
With their fineries and knicknacks 

And social delight. 



175 



176 



MUTABILITY. 

There 's a sigh in the heart 
When I think how of yore 

Round the board rang the laugh 
Of the friends now no more. 



There 's a sigh in the heart 
When I notice how few 

Are the good neighbors round, 
Whom I once so well knew. 

There 's a sigh in the heart 
When I cast round my eye, 

And see all things have changed 
Save the hills, stream, and sky. 

There 's a sigh in the heart 
When I see weed and bush 

In the garden that once 

Bloomed so fragrant and flush. 



MUTABILITY. ^y 

There 's a sigh in the heart 

As again rise to view 
The wild Osage hills, 

With their cedars and blue. 

There 's a sigh in the heart 
For the rambles which there 

Were for game, fruit, and flowers, 
So frequent and dear. 

There 's a sigh in the heart 

For the woods that recall 
Their lone music of breeze 

And the lulled waterfall ; 

The hazel's gold tassels, 

The plum's crown of white, 
The red-bud's pink mantle, 

The pool's witching bite ; 
8* 



1 7$ MUTABILITY. 

And the maple's bright tincture 
Of crimson and gold, 

When the nut wealth of autumn 
To the ground fell and rolled. 

There 's a sigh in the heart 
When I think of the dreams 

Which then gilded and gemmed 
All my life's future schemes. 

There 's a sigh in the heart 
For the visions that part 

From the memory of youth, 
Like the core from the heart. 



There 's a sigh in the heart 
As I think of that time 

When no sorrow or care 
Sullied life's happy prime. 



MUTABILITY. 

There 's a sigh in the heart 
When I think of the school 

(Once so full of light hearts) 
On the green shady knoll. 

There 's a sigh in the heart 
For those friendships now lost, 

Then so strong that it seemed 
They could never be crossed. 

There 's a sigh in the heart 
For the maid heavenly fair, 

Who first fired to delirium 
My heart's passion there. 

There 's a sigh in the heart 
When I think of her love 

As a bliss, strength, and glory 
All others above. 



i/9 



1 80 MUTABILITY. 

There 's a sigh in the heart 
For that love's first romance, 

Which eternal then seemed, 
So deep was the trance. 

There 's a sigh in the heart 
When I think of the mound 

Where her beauty and youth 
Were laid low in the ground ! 

There 's a sigh in the heart 
When, alone by that mound, 

I hear spring's early bluebird 
Break the silence around. 

There 's a sigh in the heart 
When I feel that no more 

Can I love with the love 
Which thrilled me of yore. 



MUTABILITY. 

There 's a sigh in the heart 
That all glory 's soon gone, 

Like the radiance of clouds 
That steal o'er the sun. 

There 's a sigh in the heart 
When I think how I roam ; 

Like an exile or outcast, — 
Without friends or home. 

There 's a sigh in the heart 

When I look down life's stream, 

And see only dark clouds 

Without hope's rainbow beam. — 

There 's a smile in the heart 
For that sweet future rest, 

Where the lost shall be found, 
And all shall be blest ; — 



i8i 



1 82 MUTABILITY. 

Where the years in millenniums 

Forever shall glide ; 
And where Truth, Love, and Glory 

Forever abide ! 





THE MISSISSIPPI. 

HE Earth was new. Creation smil- 



From ancient Chaos, and delighted 
seemed 
To hear her Lord and Author predicate 
That all her goodly frame was perfect made. 
As yet the mountains were but little hills ; 
No river yet meandering sought the sea ; 
The Sea himself was slowly gathering in 
His multitude of waters to his bed, — 
When from his mother-fount emerging came 
The infant Mississippi. Slowly moved 
His slender stream among the new-born flowers, 



1 84 THE MISSISSIPPI. 

As one that feared advance, and seemed 

ashamed 
To show his poorness to the light of day. 
Along the plain no gurgling noise he made ; 
But silently he crept, and kissed the stems 
Of those kind flowers that lent him guardian 

shade. 
As yet no sunshine drank his treasures up, 
No breeze disturbed his soft tranquillity, 
Till by the tributes of his kindred rills 
He felt his stream swell up, his current grow, 
His strength increase, and all his powers expand. 
No longer now he creeps, the modest brook, 
But, merging into light, he gives his waves 
To revel with the zephyrs, and to sport 
In mutual dalliance with the solar beams. 
The torrent's pride forbids him now to fear ; 
His courage waxing bolder, he disdains 
To turn aside, and shun the craggy height, 
But pours tumultuous down the precipice, 



THE MISSISSIPPI. 185 

With sullen roarings to the gulf below ; 
And then collecting in the dark abyss 
His chafed waters, white with angry foam, 
Resumes his course, nor heeds what contravenes. 
The ponderous rock, moved from its seated base, 
The half-grown trees, snatched from their na- 
tive soil, 
Are rolled away by his impetuous stream. 
Now grown a river, in his manly pride 
He moves majestically slow, nor heeds 
The smaller streams that come to swell his train. 
But as he loiters musing on his way, 
Like youthful rover ripe for love, behold ! 
There breaks in all her glory on his sight 
A beautiful brunette, the gay Missouri. 
Her robust form, her swift and dancing step, 
And hardy air, bespeak the mountaineer. 
A wreath of cotton-wood leaves adorns her head, 
And bow and quiver from her shoulders hang. 
Short is the wooing but intense ; and soon 



1 86 THE MISSISSIPPI. 

The yielding maiden joins his manly side, 
And fills the measure of his heart with love. 

Now, doubled both his happiness and strength, 
More boldly he resumed his high career ; 
And as he grew in greatness, one by one 
A multitude of mighty rivers came, 
To own their vassalage and reverence due, 
And seek admittance in his princely train ; 
Preferring to an independent course 
To be the subjects of so great a lord, 
And in his favor share. A thousand leagues, 
'Twixt east and west, the distant fountains sent 
Their tributary stores to swell his pride ; 
Whilst each acceded flood in concert joined 
To hail the monarch river Sire of Streams ! 
What spirit, — be it born of earth or heaven, — 
With such access of strength and wide domain, 
And myriads of perennial parasites, 
Would not have felt its secret soul expand, 



THE MISSISSIPPI. i Sy 

And swell to high ambition ? Deem not then 
That he — the mighty Mississippi — felt un- 
moved 
His princely greatness. Fondly did he dream 
That mother Earth owned him her eldest born, 
And gloried in his growth, and gave him 

power 
To be the lord o'er her dominions vast ; 
To move forever, and to swallow up 
With his Saturnian jaws her younger brood 
Of mountains, lakes, and e'en his kindred 

streams. 
But soon his visions fled ; and with their flight 
Came sudden terror and debasing: awe. 

o 

Athwart his course the great Atlantic lay, — 
The youthful Ocean, glorying in his might. 
From east to west, from north to south out- 
spread, 
Beyond all vision ran his winding shores. 
Amazed the giant River halts, and looks 
Upon the giant Sea ! Instinctive dread 



1 88 THE MISSISSIPPI. 

Seized on his wavering soul. His foremost 

waves 
Recoil ; and with his greatest force he strives 
To turn his flood of waters, and re-seek 
Through his long course his fountain haunts 

again. 
In vain he strives ; for his incumbent stream, 
In which he placed his glory and his pride, 
Now downward drives him with its growing 

weight. 
Fate had decreed the sources of his power 
Should be the sources of his ruin too. 
Too late he saw his sad mistakes ; ev'n now 
Annihilation gaped to seize its prey. 
With fell despair, and all the mad impulse 
Of disappointed greatness once enjoyed, 
He tore his stream into a hundred parts, 
And headlong rushing into Ocean's depths, 
Was lost amid the caverns of the deep ! — 
The winged breezes whispered o'er his grave, 
The sullen waves his funeral anthem suns:. 



WHAT IS IT TO BE GIFTED? 




•HAT is it to be gifted ? 

To live from earliest years 
A life of mingled joy and pain, 
Of hope and bitter fears. 
To be from sympathy and love 

A being set apart ; 
With none to read thy thoughts aright, 
Or soothe thine aching heart. 



What is it to be gifted ? 

To tread life's path alone, 
And long for one brave loving heart 

As only genius can. 
To know that such thou ne'er wilt find 

In all the world so wide ; 



90 WHAT IS IT TO BE GIFTED? 

For God, who gave thee intellect, 
Beauty and grace denied. 

What is it to be gifted ? 

To long and pine for fame, 
And think to find in that the bliss 

From love thou canst not claim. 
To reach the goal as fade in air 

The joys thou hop'st to find ; 
And feel the bitterness the more, 

Because thou hast a mind. 

What is it to be gifted ? 

To see beyond thy kind ; 
Their hate and slanders to endure, 

Their persecution blind. 
To feel that in a world thou art 

Which jars upon thy soul ; 
And wish to die, or live apart 

From the harsh, corrupted whole. 



WHAT IS IT TO BE GIFTED? 

What is it to be gifted ? 

A something more than this. 
To feel within thy soul the power 

To know ecstatic bliss ; 
That though thy woes are greater 

Than woes of common mould, 
Thy Joys, too, are far purer, 

Dearer a thousand-fold. 

What is it to be gifted ? 

To lift thy thoughts on high ; 
To feel that thou art nearer God 

Than those who pass thee by. 
And though forlorn, forsaken, 

To look within, and see 
A spark of God's own intellect 

Is given unto thee. 

What is it to be gifted ? 
To use that gift aright, 



191 



IQ2 WHAT IS IT TO BE GIFTED? 

And give to those that ne'er will know 

Thy misery, delight. 
To speak in words that echo 

In all the hearts of men, 
And feel thou art a blessing : 

Thou shalt be happy then. 





A DAY ON MOUNT LOOKOUT. 

[Written before the War, and hence no allusion to it] 
I. 

-^f^L STOOD on the brow of the loftiest 

figSt mountain 

£812 That o'erlooks the proud realm of 

the bold Cherokee ; 
Far beneath me I heard many a swift-gush- 
ing fountain ; 
Wide around ran the hills, like a billowy sea. 



ii. 
All night it had rained, but with fresh dewy 
brightness 
The washed face of nature shone cheerful 
and fair ; 

9 M 



I 9 4 A DAY ON MOUNT LOOKOUT. 

While the rack of the storm lay in isles of 
curled whiteness, 
Around the far sky, in the purified air. 

in. 

Soon the morn grew serene, and the soft, 
sportive breezes 
Around me swept rustling through cedar 
and pine ; 
While afar down the peak, where the evergreen 
ceases, 
I saw, like a mirror, the Tennessee shine. 

IV. 

Thence I traced it afar with the wild moun- 
tains playing, 
And winding in beauty for three scores of 
miles ; 
Graced with lawns where of yore the wild 
Indian went straying, 
But where now the neat farm in prosperity 
smiles. 



A DAY ON MOUNT LOOKOUT. 195 
V. 

And I thought of the time when canoes glided 
lightly, 
Rowed by Indian maids, o'er its waters at 
eve ; 
When the howl of the wolf, bear, and panther 
rang nightly, 
Along the vast cliffs which the bright wa- 
ters lave. 



VI. 

And my heart saddened deeply, to think that 
forever 
Is banished the tribe that was once happy 
here ; 
That the wild pomp of nature is stripped from 
the river, 
And the shades of the hill-sides lie prostrate 
and sear. 



I9 6 A DAY ON MOUNT LOOKOUT. 
VII. 

Ah ! yonder 's the gorge in whose silent re- 
cesses 
Bleach the skulls of the chieftains who dared 
to withstand 
Even Jackson himself, in the dread mountain 
passes ; 
And died in defense of their dear native 
land! 



VIII. 

The forest that blooms has its roots in an- 
other 
That lies buried beneath it, — forgot in the 
ground ; 
And too often does man, on the ruin of his 
brother, 
Build up the fair comforts that circle him 
round 



A DAY ON MOUNT LOOKOUT. 197 

IX. 
Now the day is more bright, and I cast my 
rapt eyes on 
A far wider range of this grand mountain 
scene ; 
Over five States extends the blue rim of 
horizon, 
And thousands of peaks rise like hillocks 
within ! 

x. 
But the ocean of sky, in its pure blue, spread 
over 
The stillness and beauty that slumber be- 
low, 
Is grandest of all, while beneath it far hover 
Clouds with violet, gold, ruby, and pearl, in 
their glow. 

XI. 

The clouds, which so oft, to remind man of 
heaven, 
Float beautiful over the vile, busy world, 



1 98 A DAY ON MOUNT LOOKOUT. 

Here along the peaks land, by the feeble breeze 
driven, 
And wait for the wind, with their beauties 
unfurled. 

XII. 

Some have launched out on high, and a fair 
train comes flying 
From out the horizon's far shadowy tracts ; 
And some in their radiance so near me are 
lying 
That I almost can reach them, or look o'er 
their backs. 

XIII. 

How small seems yon village,* in bright sun- 
light gleaming, 
Yon rider 's a speck, and the road a mere 
thread ; 

* Chattanooga. 



A DAY ON MOUNT LOOKOUT. I99 

And that long train of cars which shoots on 
fiercely steaming, 
Seems a string of mere toys scarcely mov- 
ing ahead. 

XIV. 

In that deep pool of ether the eagles are 
playing, 
How smoothly they sweep in wide circles 
around ! 
And at times some dart off, with the bright 
river straying, 
To the wild nuptial cliffs where their eyries 
are found. 

xv. 

'T is bare winter now ; neither bud, leaf, nor 
flower 
Lends its beauty to brighten this vast forest 
scene : 



200 A DAY ON MOUNT LOOKOUT. 

But how grand must the sight be, when each 
lawn and bower 
Is robed in June's glory of blossom and 
green. 

XVI. 

And,0, could I see it in poetic October, 
When autumn is gorgeous with crimson and 
gold; 
When winds revel wildly, or still, sad, and 
sober 
Gleams Indian summer, a dream-world un- 
rolled ; — 

XVII. 

When the vast sea of foliage, while it is 
dying, 
Sheds the sunsets and rainbows which o'ei 
it have glowed ; 
And when wild-geese and pigeons in dark 
clouds are flying 
With summer away, to a southern abode. 



A DAY ON MOUNT LOOKOUT. 2 0I 
XVIII. 

Now the day is more calm, and a deep mellow 
splendor, 
As the sun is declining, lights up the far 
west ; 
While opposite rise, much more soft-blue and 
tender, 
As if robed in sky-down, the stern peaks of 
the east. 



XIX. 

I have watched thundering cataracts, viewed 
the roused Ocean 
When his millions of waves with the dash- 
ing winds warred ; 
I have seen boundless prairies, and felt that 
emotion 
Which glowed in the breast of Manhattan's 
gray bard ; 
9* 



202 A DAY ON MOUNT LOOKOUT. 
XX. 

I have seen in proud cities magnificent 
churches, 
Where woman's sweet song like an angel's 
has rung ; 
Heard sermons and organs, hallelujahs and 
dirges, 
And felt the divineness which over all hung ; 

XXI. 

But here would I worship, — on this mountain 
altar, 
Which the grateful Earth reared to her boun- 
tiful God ; 
Here would sycophants blush, here would 
hypocrites falter, 
Subdued by the Godhead above and abroad 

XXII. 

Here can I forget all my wrongs and my sorrows, 
My world-weary heart of its pinings beguile ; 



A DAY ON MOUNT LOOKOUT. 203 

Forget the grim cares which becloud my to- 
morrows, 
And foretaste the sweet blessings of heaven 
awhile. 



XXIII. 

All day have I felt a pure, loftier spirit : 

More heavenly we grow as to heaven we 
ascend ; 
Hence mountaineers ever imbibe or inherit 
That greatness of soul which no tyrant can 
bend. 

XXIV. 

In cities the heart of man cankers and dwin- 
dles, 
Subdued by dependence and cramped in its 
view ; 
But feelings of freedom the country enkindles, 
And its beauties and grandeurs the fagged 
mind renew. 



204 A DAY ON MOUNT LOOKOUT. 



XXV. 

Far northward, far southward, the long east- 
ern ranges 
Now begin to loom up like a blue bank of 
clouds ; 
While to deep, deeper glory the western sky 
changes, 
And the light clouds approach it in lumi- 
nous crowds. 



xxvr. 

Lo ! the scene 's reached its zenith of calm- 
ness and splendor, 
Inner heaven itself seems to glow through 
the west ! 
Earth looks up in meekness, her homage to 
render, 
And winds, woods, and warblers sink to 
their night's rest. 



A DAY ON MOUNT LOOKOUT. 205 



XXVII. 

At her hushed, hallowed vespers blest Nature 
seems kneeling,* 
While before her the temple's religious light 
glows ; 
O let me, too, pour out my devotional feeling 
To the God who made all, and all blessings 
bestows ! 

XXVIII. 

And then let me descend ere yon sunset has 
faded, 
And the rich purple radiance has vanished 
on high ; 
Ere my path down the mountain the dark 
night has shaded, 
And the lights of the angels beam bright 
through the sky. 

* Reference to the worship in Catholic cathedrals. 



206 A DAY ON MOUNT LOOKOUT. 

NOTE. 

Lookout Mountain. — Two grand mountain 
ranges, fifteen or twenty miles apart, come running 
along, in a rambling manner, from southwest to- 
ward northeast. Suddenly a river, the Tennessee, 
glides in, and seeks to force its way across that of 
the mountains. The mountains, as if thrown into 
confusion by this unexpected assailant, scatter out, 
like broken battalions, into innumerable irregular 
peaks and short ridges. The river, after making 
a few long reconnoitring meanders, glides around 
on the inner or western side of the eastern range, 
which is called the Missionary Ridge ; and it then 
makes boldly and directly toward the western 
ridge, which is also the larger one. But this ridge 
runs up, as if undaunted, in a straight line to the 
river, pushes the river a little north, and then stops 
short, rears itself up as if indignant, and lets the 
river glide around it. This abrupt termination of 
the mountain, on the lower or southern side of the 
Tennessee River, is called Mount Lookout ; and 
the continuation of it toward the southwest is called 
Lookout Mountain. The railroad passes, with 
some difficulty, between the mountain and the 
river; and the village of Chattanooga is situated 
on the river, a few miles above where the river 
meets the mountain. 



A DAY ON MOUNT LOOKOUT. 2 0? 

Some European landscape-painters have de- 
clared the scenery of this section of our country 
superior to any that can be found among the Alps. 

It is perhaps needless to add, that the pictu- 
resque country about Chattanooga is the native 
home of the Cherokees. So deeply were they 
attached to their country, that it is said they after- 
wards assassinated all their own chiefs who had 
ceded it to the United States. And when the pres- 
ent eminent Cherokee chief, John Ross, or other 
dignitaries of the Cherokee nation, travel through 
this country, it is said that they are accustomed to 
linger for days among the beautiful hills and moun- 
tains which recall in them the happy memories and 
music of their youth. Bancroft has given us a 
beautiful description of the ancient home of the 
Cherokees ; but as most readers are too lazy to 
hunt up this description for themselves, I shall take 
the liberty of transcribing the best part of it : — 

" The mountaineers of aboriginal America were 
the Cherokees, who occupied the upper valley of 
the Tennessee River, as far west as Muscle Shoals, 
and the highlands of Carolina, Georgia, and Ala- 
bama, — the most picturesque and salubrious re- 
gion east of the Mississippi. Their homes were 
encircled by blue hills rising beyond hills, of which 
the lofty peaks would kindle with the early light, 
and the overshadowing ridges envelop the valleys 
like a mass of clouds. There the rocky cliffs, ris- 



208 A DAY ON MOUNT LOOKOUT. 

ing in naked grandeur, defy the lightning, and 
mock the loudest peals of the thunder-storm ; 
there the gentler slopes are covered with magnolias 
and flowering forest-trees, decorated with roving 
climbers, and ring with the perpetual note of the 
whip-poor-will ; there the wholesome water gushes 
profusely from the earth in transparent springs ; 
snow-white cascades glitter on the hillsides ; and 
the rivers, shallow, but pleasant to the eye, rush 
through the narrow vales, which the abundant 
strawberry crimsons, and coppices of rhododen- 
dron and flaming azalea adorn. At the fall of the 
leaf, the fruit of the hickory and the chestnut is 
thickly strown on the ground. The fertile soil 
teems with luxuriant herbage, on which the roe- 
buck fattens ; the vivifying breeze is laden with 
fragrance ; and daybreak is ever welcomed by the 
shrill cries of the social night-hawk and the liquid 
carols of the mocking-bird. Through this lovely 
region were scattered the little villages of the Cher- 
okees, nearly fifty in number, each consisting of 
but a few cabins, erected where the bend in the 
mountain-stream offered at once a defence, and a 
strip of alluvial soil for culture. Their towns were 
always by the side of some creek or river, and they 
loved their native land ; above all, they loved its 
rivers, — the Keowee, the Tugeloo, the Flint, and 
the beautiful branches of the Tennessee. Run- 
ning waters, inviting to the bath, tempting the an- 



A DAY ON MOUNT LOOKOUT. 



209 



gler, alluring wild-fowl, were necessary to their 

paradise The 'beloved' people of the Cher- 

okees were a people by themselves. Who can say 
for how many centuries, safe in their undiscovered 
fastnesses, they had decked their war-chiefs with 
the feathers of the eagle's tail, and listened to the 
counsels of their 'old beloved men'? Who can 
tell how often the waves of barbarous migrations 
may have broken harmlessly against their cliffs, 
where nature was the strong ally of the defenders 
of their native land ? " — Bancroft's History of the 
United States, Vol. III. 

Since the War has swept over this romantic 
countiy, a wealthy merchant of New York city, 
Mr. Roberts, with that benevolent and munificent 
liberality which is characteristic of New York and 
Boston merchants, has undertaken to found a uni- 
versity on Mount Lookout. Already has he ex- 
pended more than two hundred thousand dollars 
for grounds and buildings ; and there is every 
prospect that he will be eminently successful. 
Surely that ground deserves to become classic 
which was first produced by the mightiest war of 
elements, which then became the arena for the 
battles of men, and which is sanctified and inspired 
by the blood of heroes and patriots ! 




TO FLORA 




ESIDE my window, oft, at closing 
day, 
I watch the evening glories fade 
away ; 
And, as they vanish, to my mind they bring, 
All sweetly sad, life's unreturning spring. 
I feel that pleasures with our youth decay, 
Just as the flowers pass with spring away ; 
Love's clasping tendrils, torn from year to 

year, 
Sad Memory views, and almost prompts a 

tear ; 
Few earthly hopes to full fruition grow, — 



TO FLORA. 211 

They drop, like blossoms, blighted while they 

blow. 
But there is naught that I so much deplore 
As friends of youth whom I may see no more. 
Than friendship earth affords no purer bliss ; 
True love itself but angel friendship is. 
'T is friendship, too, that forms for you a lay, 
To wake remembrance when I 'm far away ; 
Yet frown not, if I 've shunned, with fustian 

phrase 
To twine your charms into a wreath of praise. 
I wish you blessed in hopes, of soul serene, 
Your life a path through many a happy scene ; 
And that your charms be such as will bloom 

on, 
When " rosy cheeks " and " sparkling eyes " 



Truth, sense, and goodness ever please and 

last ; 
While the short reign of beauty soon is past. 



WANT OF MONEY. 



fc^ffflTY morning of life wore a brilliant 




Enamelled with tints of glory 
and hope ; 
And forward I went to win and enjoy, 

With a will that might well with hardships 
cope ; 
And manfully ever I strove to proceed, — 
But for want of money I never could speed ! 



The realms of learning uprose to view, 

And like fairy realms of heaven they seemed ; 

My love of knowledge to a passion grew, 
And often of future greatness I dreamed;- * 

But of time and books I stood ever in need, 

And for want of money I never could speed ! 



WANT OF MONEY. 213 

There was a bright maiden neighboring near, 
As fair as the rose, and as meek as the dove ; 

And my tender pleadings oft went to her ear, 
For I loved her with a heavenly love ; — 

But my heart was cruelly left to bleed, 

Since for want of money I could not speed ! 

I went to parties, balls, and fairs, 
And in politics, too, I took a part ; 

I tried to bear me as a gentleman bears, 

But came ever away with an aching heart ; — 

For but few to the poor man give love or heed, 

And for want of money he nowhere can speed ! 

I bought me a farm on a spacious hill, 
By a beautiful winding river bound ; 

And there I hoped for happiness still, 
With a wife and lovely children round ; 

And I struggled as one in utmost need, — 

But for want of money I could not speed ! 



214 WANT OF MONEY. 

An author's fortune I next essayed, 

With invincible zeal and unflinching toil ; 

And oft I retired with an aching head, 

From the death-watching flame of the mid- 
night oil ; — 

But it seemed by the very fates decreed, 

That for want of money I never should speed ! 

At last I tried my fortune abroad, 

In the promising business of other climes ; 

And often I prayed for the blessing of God, 
And in bad hoped meekly for better times ; — 

But with all my efforts to thrive and succeed, 

For the want of money I never could speed ! 

The various world I have travelled o'er, — 
From west to east, from south to north ; 

And I 've aimed to look at all things to the core ; 
Yet through all the gilded misery of earth, 

I 've seen but this spectre truth indeed, — 

That if money we have not, we nowhere can 
speed ! 



ODE TO DEBT 




HOU hell-sent epidemic sprite, 
That wak'st me ere the morning's 
light, 

And mar'st my rest ; 
How many a gloomy face I meet 
At early morn, upon the street, 
By thee possessed ! 



Thou too art fair down to the waist, 
And more than mermaid lures thou hast 

For greedy hearts ; 
But then " voluminous and vast," 
And foul and hideous, end at last 

Thy nether parts. 



2i6 ODE TO DEBT. 

Some call thee woman-born, and say, 
Far as the eagle holds his sway 

The dames — so dear, 
Ever to waste and show inclined, 
In silks and crinoline combined 

To bring thee here. 

No doubt in good times found perchance 
The wanton nymph Extravagance 

Some miser's cell ; 
And yielding there to bitter need, 
She rashly did the rueful deed 

I need not tell. 

And thou wast born, — the child of shame ! 
Accurs'd forever be thy name, 

On earth, in heaven ! 
But may'st thou to the rich who lend, 
And thereby miss the needle's end, 

In hell be given. 



ODE TO DEBT. 2 lJ 

And legislators, corporators, 
Government thieves, and speculators, 

United then, 
To make thee strong in life and thrift ;— 
So they but flourish, let others shift 

As best they can. 

Hard money-lenders everywhere, 
And harder renters more severe, 

Uphold thy thrall ; - 
Till huge per cents and huger rents 
Almost from homes and tenements 

Will drive us all. 

The laboring man who toils each day, 
Can scarcely thy extortions pay 

With all he gets ; 
The wife and husband oft apart 
Consult and plan with aching heart. 

To shun thy threats. 



2i8 ODE TO DEBT. 

The naked room, the pantry scant, 
And ragged children's tears of want, 

Thy grip proclaim ; 
The evening fireside where is heard 
No ringing laugh or cheerful word, 

Declares the same. 

Ah ! many a long-loved heirloom 's gone 
To heartless auction-shop or pawn, 

To glut thy maw ; 
The sheriff is thy slave and priest, 
And lawyers all thy realms infest 

With buzzard craw. 

Bright urchin down the street has strayed, 
Where Christmas has his wealth arrayed 

For sport and spree ; 
But, oh ! why thus the treasures eye ? 
Dear mother can't afford to buy, 

Remembering thee. 



ODE TO DEBT. 219 

No greeting groups from door to door 
Shall revel in the outspread store 

Of ale and cake ; 
No lively tune, no sprightly dance, 
No virgin's witching smile and glance, 

Shall heart awake. 

Nor has your poet better fare, — 
His credit 's gone, his purse is bare, 

No " prospect 's " near ; 
But all his Christmas must be spent 
Without a solitary cent 

For need or cheer ! 

The Muse, too, whose love ever blessed 
His heart howe'er by sorrows pressed, 

Grows shy and tart ; 
For many a one has felt ere now, 
That often Poverty and thou 

Break love and heart. 



220 ODE TO DEBT. 

Yet may he ne'er to troubles yield, 
Nor cower on life's embattled field, 

But bear and dare ; 
And may each heart by thee distressed, 
More buoyant grow the more 't is pressed, 

And bravely bear. 

May all thy victims soon be taught 
To shun dependence' bitter lot, 

And trust life's span 
To lion's mouth, hyena's maw, 
Night-witches' haunt, or Devil's claw, 

But not to man ! 

May Plenty, like a Saviour, come, 
And all the oracles be dumb 

That show thy reign ; 
May all the virtues banish thee, 
That heart and home ne'er haunted be 

By thee again. 



ODE TO DEBT. 2 2I 

Alas ! my countrymen, I feel 
Your fate is worse than fire or steel, 

If you owe gold ; 
For little of liberty has he, 
Though in a land called proudly free, 

Whom Shylocks hold. 

His sweat they reap, and rate him low, 
His lot the talk of every foe, — 

Enslaved, debased ; 
His days in clouds of care are wrapped, 
His spirit 's cowed, his manhood sapped, 

His life a waste. 

Indeed it oft has seemed to me, 
That but the rich on earth are free, 

And have their ease ; 
Their life is all one holiday, 
To go or come, to work or play, 

Do as they please ; 



222 ODE TO DEBT. 

And what they want their wealth will buy,' 
But then the Devil keeps one eye 

Upon them ever ; 
So that the most in pleasures swim 
Awhile, but cross at last with him 

The Stygian river. 

Pride, ennui, sickness, foiled ambition, 
Infest, like harpies, their condition, 

And fearful cares ; 
And oft the pile of guilty gold 
The Furies as in vengeance hold, 

Against the heirs. 

Then grant me, good, great Providence ! 
Ere life is sere, a competence 

Between extremes ; 
But let it nowhere be a gain 
That bears dishonor's slightest stain, 
To haunt my dreams. 
St. Louis, Mo., 1857. 




TO FLORA. 

>^f^- LOVE to scan the ponderous tome 
yMjjjL Of science and philosophy ; 
-«»! To understand our earthly home, 
How wise and good the Deity. 

I love to muse, at silent night, 
On all the great have left behind ; 

The flowering fields of fancy bright, 
The architecture of the mind. 



I love to muse on thoughts that came 
From lips two thousand years ago ; 

The poet's line of kindling flame, 
The orator's impetuous flow. 



224 TO FLORA. 

I love to dwell on history's page, 
With emulation thence supplied, 

To think of those, in every age, 
Who nobly lived or glorious died. 

I love to gaze from lofty heights, 

Where Nature's myriad charms appear ; 

To me she ever gives delights, 

Through all the seasons of the year. 

When winds harass the bowery vale, 
And storms in fury onward dash, 

I inly wish a stronger gale, 

A louder peal, and brighter flash. 



I love to spend a social eve 

With those I love, and who love me ; 
For love and friendship can relieve 

When life flows dull and heavily. 






TO FLORA. 225 

Life's former scenes I love to view, 
Where many happy days I Ve spent, 

And many objects still renew 

The joys which then unheeded went. 

I love the church where beauty beams, 
And tender vocal music flows ; 

I love the lyre when fancy teems, 
And when the heart enraptured glows. 

But more than all I love to go 
And sit beside thee, Flora dear ; 

For thou art all I prize below, 
The source of all my hope and fear. 

And in thy words that gently flow 
I love to search for love to me, 

As miners watch the golden glow 
In sands beside the western sea. 



226 TO FLORA. 

Upon thy face I love to gaze, — 

That countenance so wise and sweet, 

Where mind and heart, in mingling maze, 
Like interflowing waters meet. 

No more with cold and cunning art 
Prolong my doubt and agony ; 

At once receive my glowing heart, 
Or set your sighing captive free. 





TO FLORA 




HERE is, dear Flora, in my bosom's 

core 
A small sweet voice that ever tells 
of thee, — 
A plaintive music like the melody 
That in the shell yearns for its native shore. 
I think of thee in morning's joyous hour ; 

I think of thee amid the noonday crowd ; 
I think of thee when sunset gilds the bower, 

And leaves its farewell on the evening cloud. 
My future life is all, all filled with thee ; 

There is no joy for me where thou art not ; 
With thee this world all heavenly still would be, 
With thee all cares and sorrows soon forgot. 
No outward charms my being thus control, — 
I love the ambrosial flavor of thy soul. 





TO FLORA. 

THE sweet, the dreamy rapture, 

When the soul is love-inflamed ; 
Sweet to live as beauty's capture, 
But how hard to be disclaimed ! 

Rosy, lively, lovely maiden, 

Take, O take this heart to thine ; 

Life indeed would be an Eden, 
Could I only call thee mine. 

Reign the queen of my affections, 
Love's bewitching sceptre wield ; 

Reign till, torn from all connections, 
I to kindred dust must yield. 



229 



TO FLORA. 

Soothing is the eve when fading, 
Joyous is the morning's glow, 

Dear the breeze, when gently spreading 
Coolness o'er the heated brow ; 

But a sweeter pensive feeling 

Wanders through my yearning heart, 
When my thoughts to you are stealing, 

When your smiles fresh hopes impart. 






KATE. 

IN THE SPIRIT OF ANACREON. 

ET Homer prate of mice and giants, 
How Atlas holds this sinful ball ; 
Let lawyers dream of fees and 
clients, — 
I would n't give my Kate for all. 

Let doctors cure the sick forever ; 

Let sluggards grumble at dull times ; 
Let politicians strive and waver, — 

There 's naught like Kate and making rhymes. 






KATE. 231 

Let statesmen make their windy speeches, 
And temperance lecturers croak and bawl ; 

From bad to worse the preacher preaches, — 
More eloquence in Kate than all. 

Let some to California scramble, 

For gold risk dangers great and small ; 

Let others speculate or gamble, — 
I would n't leave my Kate for all. 

Dear Kate, and some fair rural mansion 
Where every comfort you can see, 

With books to give the soul expansion, 
Will be enough of world for me. 






AN AUTUMN SUNSET ON THE MOREAU * 

VENING draws her amber veil 
Lovely o'er the western sky ; 
Lingering clouds in beauty sail, 
Ere the night withdraws their dye. 

Red'ning sunbeams slow recede 
Up yon hill's tall-timbered crest ; 

Flocks of wavelets glimmering speed 
O'er the river's gentle breast. 

Searching breezes wander now, 
Evening's coolness to impart ; 

* The Moreau is a large creek, or small river, in Cole 
County, Missouri. 



AUTUMN SUNSET ON THE MOREAU 233 

Softly fanning every brow, 
Gently soothing every heart. 

And the sad'ning autumn leaf 

Falls like winter's noiseless flakes ; 

Emblem of our life so brief, — 
O, the memories which it wakes ! 

On yon hill its sun-dyed wealth 
Shows the orchard, foliage-shorn ; 

And the squirrel skips by stealth 
From the field of bending corn. 

High, in long triangle, fly 
Wild-geese to a sunnier spot ; 

And their plaintive, journeying cry 
Seems to wail their homeless lot. 

Now the sun-glow leaves the hill, 
Stillness rests on every thing ; 



234 AUTUMN SUNSET ON THE MOREAU. 

But the shrill-voiced whip-poor-will 
Soon shall make the valleys ring. 



Here and there his last fond hymn 
Every warbler sends to heaven ; 

And as earth is growing dim, 
Star by star the dome of night 
Blossoms out in twinkling white. 





SPIRITUAL RAPPINGS. 



OME years ago, I well remember, 
Became this nation all astir ; 
For there appeared, about December, 
Strange spirits rapping everywhere. 




They rapped beneath the social table, 

When some true medium called them thence, 

And sometimes, it is said, were able 
To make the furniture all dance ! 



At dead of night the lone house-keeper 
Did hear them like a death-watch pat ! 

And o'er the bed-quilt of the sleeper 
They ran like any mouse or rat ! 



2 $6 SPIRITUAL RAP PINGS. 

Right freely they communicated 
What all the world already knew, 

But ne'er a single secret stated 

About the world from which they flew. 

Yet awful soon grew the sensation, — 
Some folks went crazy, some sold out ; 

Thinking that to this wicked nation 

Had come the Judgment Day, no doubt ! 

And some went preaching o'er the country, 
Oft telling how they came possessed ; 

But sense nor news, by smartest gentry, 
In all their ranting could be guessed. 

Even I, a somewhat hard-sense heathen, 
These spiritual wonders went to see ; 

And watched, to plant my honest faith in, 
Yet saw not what was told to me. 



SPIRITUAL RAPPINGS. 237 

But long this world, in my opinion, 
Will yet together hold, though frail ; 

And simply from Hell's hot dominion 
Some batch of fiends had broken jail ; 

Who then, like others emigrating, 

Came straight to Uncle Sam's domain ; 

'Midst million worlds, well calculating, 
They here unfound might long remain. 

And swift they grasped, with meddling humor, 
The screws that run our whole machine ; 

Striving to show us that they knew more 
Than we who always here had been. 

But soon the Gospel doctrine snuffing, 
Which Christ had on this planet sown, 

And which no devil, still or moving, 

Can smell, nor straightway seek to shun, — 



238 SPIRITUAL RAP PINGS. 

They all in their rebuked conditions, 
Since here of hogs were not enough, 

Fled straight into the politicians, 
As next to hogs the vilest stuff! 



Now greater than the world saw ever 

A horrid civil war shall come ; 
And they shall strive this realm to sever, 

Or spread the sins they 've nursed at home. 

With treason, perjury, rapine, murder, 
But most with shameless, monstrous lies, 

They '11 strive to break up peace and order, 
And in their hellish schemes to rise. 

Destruction, like a fierce tornado, 

Shall sweep with gloom and thunder flash ; 
And life, wealth, power, hope, bravado, 

To Chaos and the Grave shall dash ! 



SPIRITUAL RAP PINGS. 239 

Then fiendish hate, through grim starvation, — 
O blackest crime that history knows ! — 

The captured myriads of the nation 
Shall give to death, or maniac woes ! 

But soon our good Almighty Father 

Shall drive from earth with scorpion whips, 

And back to Hell these fiends regather, 
As shown in the Apocalypse. 

Then law and justice, truth and science, 
Shall bloom like flowers after rain ; 

And this great land shall bid defiance 
To tyranny's and corruption's train. 






THE WHITE ROSE OF ALABAMA. 

HAT a beautiful maiden ! so tall 
and so straight, 
And how easy, majestic, and 
graceful her gait ; 
And so finely-proportioned and round is her 

form, 
You can scarce keep your distance, or govern 
your arm. 

But her face, — O beware, of its witchery be- 
ware ! 

See it once, and your hankering forever is 
there : 



THE WHITE ROSE OF ALABAMA. 241 

By day and by night it will kindle your mind, 
And content you '11 ne'er be with any other 
you find. 

So classic the features, so delicate yet bold, 
With complexion the daintiest that ivory can 

hold; 
And to show the heart's feelings, so finely 

combined, 
You might gaze a whole day, and no fault 

could you find. 

Her large, hazel eyes roll so liquid and bright, 

And glow in their depths full of love and 
delight ; 

And her smile-dimpled cheeks, with silk hair- 
lets o'ergrown, 

Are such as Adonis would lay to his own. 

Her nose, like an ornament, centres her face ; 
11 p 



242 THE WHITE ROSE OF ALABAMA. 

Her finely turned chin speaks decision and 

grace ; 
And her full, rosy lips most expressively play 
O'er a sound set of teeth, even fairer than they. 

Round her smooth, ample brow, more attrac- 
tive than pearls, 

Round her smooth, snowy neck, shakes a 
wealth of dark curls ; 

And fresh buds of magnolia, myrtle, and rose, 

Most gracefully set, in her tresses repose. 

Sweet emblems, that tell of her beauty and 
prime ; 

Sweet emblems, that tell of her bright sunny 
clime ; 

Of a land where the daughters are virtuous 
and fair, 

And the sons guard their rights with a chival- 
rous care. 



THE WHITE ROSE OF ALABAMA. 243 

Her chest, broad and full, is of lily-white glow, 
And surpasses, in form, all that marble can 

show ; 
While that plump, taper hand, and that neat, 

well-set foot, 
Show Nature's prize-work by the finish she 

put. 

Not beauties voluptuous alone can she boast ; 
In beauties of soul she is also a toast : 
Like Minerva she talks, like a siren she sings, 
And the melody of goodness in her voice ever 
rings. 

The guitar can she touch with perfection of 

skill, 
From piano can draw any music at will ; 
And in song: and in dance so divine she 



appears 
1 saint 
years. 



That a saint might forget both his Bible and 



244 



THE WHITE ROSE OF ALABAMA. 



In all that she does, and in all that she says, 
No fault can be found with her meanings and 

ways ; 
True, artless, and meek, like some heavenly 

child, 
No graces of hers are by vanity spoiled. 

In the pure fields of learning herself has she 

bred 
With all that is noble in all she has read ; 
And she knows well and loves the domestics* 

of life, — 
A dowry that now seldom comes with a wife. 

Not a pert, frisky flirt, not a vain, shallow fool, 
Not a steam-ripened crab, turned out, spoiled, 

from a school, 
Not a rickety toy, nor a butterfly wrecked, 
But a woman substantial, with angel bedecked. 

* Cooking, sewing, washing, etc. 



THE WHITE ROSE OF ALABAMA. 245 

Her fame has spread far as the fame of some 

queen, 
So that daily come suitors the maiden to win ; 
But she manages all with discretion so nice, 
That his fate none can guess till he throws 

his last dice.* 

There come Yanceys and Rutledges, Pinkneys 

and Haynes, 
McDonalds and Douglases, Simses and Lanes, 
Fitzpatricks and Harrises, Campbells and Clays, 
Montgomeries, Youngs, Hamiltons, Randolphs, 

and Mays. 

Some buggy and horse oft is seen at the gate, 
And proud pawing steeds at the rackf often 
wait, 

* This is said to be the very pink of etiquette among our 
first-class ladies ; but it is not in the spirit of Christianity, 
and therefore not approved by the writer. 

t Rack ; a sort of frame, in the Southern States, erected 
before gates for hitching horses to it. 



246 THE WHITE ROSE OF ALABAMA. 

While the master, forgetful, is dallying within, 
In the maiden's neat parlor, the maiden to win. 

The sons of rich planters and great men of 

state, 
And those who most highly their ancestry rate, 
Oft come dashing "to see her," and long do 

they stay,. 
But are all nipt at last by a heart-killing nay ! 

Though her father for her has no plentiful 

hoard, 
Though she might from ten scores choose her 

partner and lord, 
Yet she 'd rather be wed to a poor man of 

worth, 
Than to any rich blockhead that struts upon 

earth. 

There dwells in her village an humble young 

man, 
Whom Nature 's endowed as no art ever can ; 



THE WHITE ROSE OF ALABAMA. 247 

A gentleman wholly, a hero in heart, 
Who an orphan and poor, in the world took 
his start. 

With but little of favor himself has he tauerht. 

Till he knows more than riches for others 
have bought ; 

And a flourishing school now his virtues re- 
wards, 

And for reading and thinking still leisure 
affords. 

To win what 's worth winning, he has the high 

will ; 
And his way would he cut, though through 

granite and steel. 
To him our rare maiden has plighted her all, 
And him will she wed in the beauty of fall. 

In wealth and esteem he shall rapidly grow ; 
His State shall he rule, and to Congress shall 
go: 



248 THE WHITE ROSE OF ALABAMA. 

For his life's future field in the best of lands 
lies, — 

Where the worthless must sink, and the wor- 
thy must rise ! 

In comfort and bliss shall their future years 

flow ; 
While a beautiful offspring around them shall 

grow, 
Whose sallies of youth, and whose promise of 

worth, 
Shall cheer their decline, and thek exit from 

earth. 

Huntsville, Alabama, 1859. 




THE TWO TREES. 




HERE is a tree whose branches 
reach the sky, 
And into all the earth its mighty 
roots. 
It is the Tree of Fame ; and many an eye 

Looks longing on its various golden fruits, 
And foliage evergreen. Toil, pain, and death, 

And seas of blood, and rivulets of tears, 
And breezes made of sighs and panting breath, 
Have nurtured it through all the storied 
years. 
Birds of ambition fly in envious strife 

Among its boughs, to build their nests 
secure ; 
Yet few can reach its deathless crown of life, 
In which their shielded eyries may endure : 



250 THE TWO TREES. 

While the sparse fruit, that most enchants the eye 
Begets more strife, yet fails to satisfy. 

But there 's another tree, — the Tree of Life, 

Planted by Jesus on this stormy earth ; 
Which yet grows hardier from all spiteful strife, 

And ever-widening spreads its branches 
forth. 
It bears the true ambrosia of the skies, — 

The fruit that feeds, and heals, and gives 
delight. 
All nations that it shelters, live and rise, 

And learn the knowledge of the good and right. 
The earth it overspreads, and tops in heaven ; 

Though in both worlds by angels nursed 
and guarded. 
Its fruits alike to poor and rich are given, 

And plenteous, without strife, to all awarded ; 
And they who feast upon the spiritual flavor, 
Gain life and bliss, without alloy, forever. 





GLASGOW. 

AIR Glasgow ! on thy hilly site 

Uplifted far into the sky, 

And leaning gently to the sun, 



I greet thee with a smile and sigh. 



For many a year has vanished since 
Young in thy wreath of life I bloomed ; 

And who can tell what change since then, 
Or what dear friends have been entombed ? 



The same bright skies still o'er thee bend ; 

The same grand forest greets the morn ; 
The same green hills around thee rise, 

With tinkling flocks and tasseled corn. 



252 GLASGOW. 

And past thy feet, in silent flow, 
Missouri's sheeted waters glide ; 

Then sunward stretch, to seek the sky, 
A glassy, broad, and shimmering tide. 

And as the steamer, driving near, 

Parts this fresh tide in rustling swells, 

A lovelier lustre o'er thee steals, 
And sad I hear thy Sabbath bells. 

The liquid peals come faint but clear, 
Like echoes of immortal mind, 

And sweet as if from Heaven they rang 
Where angels are in worship joined. 

O youthful memories ! bliss-impearled, 
One glimpse into your paradise ! 

That in the world-encrusted heart 
Yet in the core of being lies. 



GLASGOW. 253 

Can I forget those blissful scenes, — 
The tidy, friendly gatherings there, — 

The maiden in her angel bloom, — 

The music sweet, — the hallowed prayer ? 

Blest village, in thy ruggedness 

Thou bloom'st like Scotia's thistle-bud, 

Beside a stream which by thee flows 
Like Time's own deep and silent flood. 

And beauteous, like a foliage sea, 

Yon forest spreads in waves of green, 

While as in dream Duration sleeps 
Round the horizon's dusky scene. 

Thy homes with shade commingled gleam, 
As flowers with leaves blend in bouquet ; 

And through thy hum rings sweet and clear 
The song of wild-bird far away. 



254 GLASGOW. 

Gay, fragrant flowers and flowering vines 
From garden and from trellis gleam ; 

And fruited trees, and aspens light, 

Wave twinkling in the sun's bright beam. 

Here love and virtue sweetly dwell, 
And lives in peace and comfort glide ; 

Far better than in crowded marts, 

Where noise, vice, care, and want abide. 

There avarice, strife, and glittering pride 
Inflame and undermine the soul ; 

Here luxuries remain unknown, 

Or meek contentment holds control. 

No jealous strife, no rankling care, 
No mean dependence on the great, 

Here sour the little sweet of life, 

Or stain the heart with shame and hate. 



GLASGOW. 2 cc 

For wealth and fame, men rove and toil, 
Risk sea and storm, or delve the mine ; 

But bliss on earth is surest found 

In spots like thee, and homes like thine. 

Dear village ! may'st thou ever be 
As pure, as fair, as blest as now ; 

And may some future poet weave 
A worthier garland for thy brow. 

Glasgow, Missouri, 1864. 






THE SECESSION OF VIRGINIA. 

" Lochiel ! Lochiel ! beware of the day," etc. 

Campbell. 

IRGINIA! Virginia ! oh! what hast 
thou done ? 
Thy deed, worse than Cain's, reeks 
up foul to the sun ! 
Thou hast drawn the keystone from the temple 

of peace, 
And the bolt giving War's bloody dragons 
release ! 



O think of the warnings and glorious toil 
Of the nation's great fathers who sleep in thy 
soil ; 



THE SECESSION OF VIRGINIA. 257 

And let not rise from thee treason's worst 

thunder-cloud, 
O'er that Union of which we have all been so 

proud. 

Why seek in thy frenzy and rashness to break 
Earth's best government ? Why the tenets 

forsake 
Which thy statesmen proclaimed 'gainst the 

world's tyrant horde, 
And thy heroes established by fire and sword ? 

Canst thou quit thy high sphere, blot thine 

ancient renown, 
To be champion and slave to a small rebel 

town ; * 
Led beguiled from the high path of duty aside, 
By its fools that are bursting with madness 

and pride ? 

* Charleston, S. C. 



258 THE SECESSION OF VIRGINIA. 

Why against us set death on thy borders and 
heights, 

And contend, like a rowdy, for honor and 
rights ? 

Why be ruled by the slanders and lies spread 
with gold, 

By the traitors who would their ambition up- 
hold ? 

Beware of the " lions " that come from the 

South,* 
Mark their terrible reign, and the fangs of 

their mouth ! 
Beware of crowned wolves in sheep's clothing 

arrayed, 
And the serpents that lurk under flower and 

shade ! 

* A poem, written in South Carolina about the beginning 
of the War, represents that mighty little State as the 
" nutrix leonum " / 



THE SECESSION OF VIRGINIA. 259 

Can a tyrant be worse than the braggart who 

comes 
To rule armed on thy soil, vote thee out of 

thy homes,* 
Eat thy substance away, stop thy travel and 

speech, 
And spread war's desolation from mountain to 

beach ? 

Dear mother of States ! thee we ever have held 
First in love and in honor, — our anchor and 

shield ; 
Beware, ere that star-spangled banner is riven, 
Of that deep Northern hive, and the ven- 
geance of Heaven ! 

* Immediately after the firing upon Fort Sumter, and be- 
fore Virginia had seceded, the rebel soldiery of South Caro- 
lina poured into that State, took possession of the railroads, 
the press, and the ballot-box, and helped to vote the State 
out of the Union. Verily, a most delectable exemplification 
of their States-Rights' doctrine ! 



2 6o THE SECESSION OF VIRGINIA. 

O, beautiful now are thy valleys and hills, 
And the farmer his homestead in happiness 

tills ; 
Unbroken are now all thy sweet ties of love, 
While blessings descend like the sanctified dove. 

But war's dreadful avalanche o'er thee shall 
pour, 

And thy sweet social life shall be marred ever- 
more ; 

The wild-bird again in a desert shall sing, 

As in ages gone by when Powhattan was king.* 

O'er thy beautiful fields, from Blue Ridge to 

the shore, 
Shall the bright sabres flash, and the dread 

cannons roar ; 

* Powhattan, by poetic license for Powhatan, and in the 
analogy of Manhattan. Powhattan has sometimes been 
used, and it is more in unison with the music of the English 
tongue. Besides, many Indian names have been quite as 
severely anglicized ; as, Niagara for Oniagarah, Kentucky for 
Kentuck. 



THE SECESSION OF VIRGINIA. 2 6l 

Thy streets shall be shrouded in silence and 

gloom, 
Uprooted thy households, or still as the tomb : 

Save where shall be heard woman's heart- 
piercing wail 

For her lover and kin stretched on mountain 
and vale ; 

Where no hand scares at night wolf and wild- 
cat away, 

Nor shields from the sun, fly, and vulture by day ! 

Shall Columbia, the refuge and pride of the 

world, ' 
Lose her bright star of hope, and to ruin be 

hurled ; 
While all nations, despairing, in anguish look on, 
And the slave's festering chain wakes a still 

deeper moan ? 

Nay, the conquests of ages can never grow less ; 
The right and the good must forever progress ; 



262 THE SECESSION OF VIRGINIA. 

And that star-spangled banner triumphant 

shall wave, 
Till creation itself is a chaos and grave ! 

Then Virginia ! Virginia ! from frenzy awake : 
'T is the highest of honor the wrong to forsake ; 
And the national life-blood shall yet flow 

through thee, 
Torn, vanquished, yet noble, repentant, and 

free! 

Washington City, 1861. 






NATIONAL HYMN. 

AND for which our patriot sires 
Freemen's rights and glory won, 
Land whose freedom's light inspires 
Every land beneath the sun ; 
May no hand thy ties e'er sever, 
May thy life endure forever. 

Land whose wealth of vales and mountains, 

And of prairies wide unfurled, 
Bays and lakes and streams and fountains, 

Reaches half-way round the world ; 
May no hand thy bounds e'er sever, 
May thy reign be one forever. 



264 NATIONAL HYMN. 

Land where labor, art, and science 
Find the noblest field on earth, 

Land where genius bids defiance 
To the ills of want and birth ; 

May God through thee all lands favor, 

May thy freedom spread forever. 

Land where thousand, thousand blessings 
Spring from climate, soil, and law, — 

Land whose wonderful progressings 
From the world most heaven draw ; 

May thy hopes be sullied never, 

May thy greatness grow forever. 

God thy architects inspired, — 

May he ne'er his love withdraw, — 

May false gods be ne'er desired, 
May we ever keep his law ; 

That no foe or traitor ever 

Can our glory mar forever. 



NATIONAL HYMN. 

While enskied and sainted, o'er us, 

Looks our glorious Washington, 

May we love the land that bore us, 

Nor forget what he has done ; 
That sin and discord rend us never, 
But love and virtue bind forever. 



265 



1861. 





THE RALLY 




E stalwart legions of the North, 
From every hill and valley, 
Pour, like your own Niagara, forth, 
And to the danger rally ! 

Round Freedom's home and temple fair 
The storm of treason gathers, 

To lay in desolation there 
The glory of our fathers ! 

Ye lordly farmers of the West, 
Of matchless heart and sinew, 

Let not your land rebellion blast, 
Nor Southern sirens win you. * 

* At the outbreak of the War, the Southern States made a 
strenuous effort to induce the Western States to join them. 

12 



THE RALLY. 267 

Ye steel-nerved men whose gardens reach 

The ocean's waves sonorous, 
Come forth from every peak and beach, 

To turn the tide before us. 



Ye generous sons of every land, 
Who love progressive goodness, 

To Freedom's cause give heart and hand, 
'Gainst tyrant might and shrewdness. 

Say, shall that lawless Charleston mob 
Cart-tail Columbia's banner ? * 

Her soldiers kill, her treasures rob, 
In every shameful manner ? 



* According to newspaper reports, the rabble of Charles- 
ton, S. C, shortly after the fall of Fort Sumter, attached the 
United States' flag to the tail of a common dray, and drag- 
gled it in procession about the streets of the city, with jeers 
and hisses ! 



268 THE RALLY. 

Her cities bum, assault her forts, 

Defy her legislation ? 
Her highways mar, destroy her ports, 

And board her navigation ? 

Shall traitors and marauders still 

Teach discord and division ? 
Our farmers rob, our patriots kill, 

To glut their own ambition ? 

And shall our realm, divinely framed, 

The wisdom of all ages, 
Be with the world's chimeras named, 

A dread on history's pages ? 

No ! Fling that flag to gale and beam, 

Its glorious airs play under ; 
And swords shall flash, and bayonets gleam, 

And volleying cannons thunder ! 



THE RALLY. 

Our patriot bands the land shall purge 
From treason's tribulation ; 

And Columbia shall again emerge 

A great, eternal nation ! 
Washington City, 1861. 



269 





THE MONROE DOCTRINE.* 




ORBEAR, ye meddling despots of 
the East, 
To touch this land with your pol- 
luting hands ! 
From tropic regions, to each polar waste, 

The future home of Liberty it stands. 

Your cankered systems cannot here take root, 

That dwarf the masses and debauch the soul ; 

But from this land our sun its light shall shoot 

Through your dark kingdoms, and subvert 

the whole ! 
1 86 1. 

* The foregoing lines, as the date shows, were written 
long ago, and the writer still believes that they are sound in 
doctrine ; but he does not approve the barbarous execution of 
Maximilian ! 



ggs 




BROTHER JONATHAN'S LAMENT AND 
PRAYER. 

[National Fast-Day, September 26, 1861.] 

'REAT God ! who rul'st omnipotent 
and just, 
To thee I humbly pray, in thee I 
trust, 
To save my people from their traitor host. 




Thy hand led brave Columbus o'er the sea, 
To find a world for empires just and free, 
And gave the best in clime and soil to me. 



Like some primeval Eden bloomed the wild ; 
No despot's sway the virgin soil defiled ; 
And Hope and Freedom o'er the prospect 
smiled. 



272 BROTHER JONATHAN'S LAMENT. 

From every land the wretched exile came, 
Escaped from tyrant's chain and bigot's flame, 
To build up here his family and fame. 

From Europe's jungled* aristocracy, 
The joyful emigrants for liberty, 
Like birds thronged west — their better home 
to be. 

And many a log-built cabin soon appeared, 
And many a bold arm the rich woodlands 

cleared, 
And love and plenty many a home soon cheered. 

Freed from the rage of tyranny and sect, 
Here crippled manhood grew again erect, 
And even serfs regained their self-respect. 

From forests, prairies, lakes, and rivers came 
Continual joys of scenery, crops, and game, 
And the glad settler blessed Thy holy name. 

* Allusion to the Asiatic tiger haunts. 



BROTHER JONATHAN'S LAMENT. 273 

On lake and stream, like fruit along a vine, 
And on each nook of ocean's land-kissed line, 
Soon cities sprung, with many a spire to shine. 

Art, Genius, Labor, elsewhere long oppressed, 
Came here to find of all their homes the best, 
And build their grandest empire in the West ; 

And Patriotism that from tyrants fled, 
Laborious Poverty that starved for bread, 
And Truth and Conscience that for justice bled. 

But soon the bloody Revolution rose, 

When long and fierce strove royal-minded foes 

Here to implant their code of iron laws. 

Hard was the struggle with my British kin ; 
But while around raged war with storming din, 
All needful bonds and love grew strong within. 



27 '4 BROTHER JONATHAN'S LAMENT. 

With guardian love, Thou, too, didst interpose ; 
Thy spirit filled the leaders whom I chose, 
Gave strength to bear, deliverance, and repose. 

O, ever when stern battle I must try, 

Be such my cause that Thou mayst be ally, 

And victory rise an incense to the sky ! 

When the long strife was o'er, and, sternly tried, 
I stood like Sinai's suppliants purified, 
Thou gav'st the Constitution for my guide. 

Now the new order of the world began, 
Or realms harmonious with Creation's plan, 
And nearer to Thee rose benighted man. 

Thy blessings countless filled my happy lanu, 
And in one century it grew more grand 
Than others that now twenty centuries stand. 



BROTHER JONATHAN'S LAMENT. 275 

But man, vain man, can pampering never bear ; 
He slights the good that has of ill no share, 
And but in misery sees what blessings were. 

The Arts and Virtues scarce have gained a home, 
And with their magic set it all in bloom, 
When Sin, Hate, Avarice, and Ambition come ! 

Then soon the good is checkered through with 

woe ; 
And best of things rot even while they grow, 
Or nurse within their death and overthrow. 

Most that men prize, is gained by blood or pain ; 
Truth is a flower reared on virtue slain, 
And oft can spring but from the battle-plain. 

The grades of pride, which grow by thrift and 

peace, 
So irritating oft below them press, 
That but the sword can level and release. 



2j6 BROTHER JONATHAN'S LAMENT. 

Man is by nature tyrannous inclined, 

And wants but chance to prey upon his kind, 

When soon from lusts he grows to justice blind. 

The Good on earth is but a chrysalis, 

That grows and sheds through all the centuries, 

And war must break the shell for happier peace. 

But grant, O God ! that like the changeless sea 
In its duration may this Union be, 
And by its storms regain its purity. 

No foreign foe could now enslave my soil ; 
The seasons lovely come, and plenteous smile ; 
And all seems good, and man alone seems vile. 

For discord, like a plague, now broods o'er all ; 
Its frightful works the stoutest hearts appall, 
And threat my realm with an untimely fall. 



BROTHER JONATHAN'S LAMENT. 277 

Those whom my bounty gave their power and 

bread, 
With my own weapons seek my blood to shed, 
And heap base slanders on my guiltless head. 

An imbecile and coward, if u L knave,* 
The people to me for my leader gave, 
Whose minions well-nigh brought me to my 
grave. 

They robbed my household, and my trust be- 
trayed ; 
Themselves turned traitors, and to traitors made 
All they could bribe, or with their lies persuade. 

As midnight robbers, ere they run away, 
Will fire the house to hide their guilt, so they 
Would at the last my home in ruins lay. 

* James Buchanan. 



2 y8 BXOTffEX JONATHAN'S LAMENT. 

Now, like hid mines, exploding treason springs, 
And every day a gloomier story brings, — 
The very air grows dark with boding things ! 

Amazed, I know not where to turn or trust ; 
In camp and council lurk the traitor host, 
And deadliest plots where I had trusted most. 

'Gainst outward foes, all nature 's armed in part, 
And outward wounds still yield to time and art, 
But death 's the bane that courses through the 
heart ! 

I gave them lands, dominion, honors, all ; 

I made their sons the rulers of my hall ; 

But, like warmed adders, now they seek my fall. 

They turned, like Arnold, from my love away ; 
They would, like Judas, with a kiss betray ; 
And, like remorseless Herod, sought the fray. 



BROTHER JONATHAN'S LAMENT 2 ; 9 

To foulest things they fairest names assign ; 

Their treason, revolution is divine ; 

Their perjury, as " State's Rights " they define. 

To lie, rob, murder, devastate, — all go 

As higher duties which their States they owe, 

And justified by what they mean to do. 

In freedom's name my people they enslave, 
Yet say they are like Seventy-six's brave, 
And make my land a desert and a grave. 

With lies that Hell might shame, they daily feed 
The poor, deluded people, whom they lead 
To their own ruin, by a specious creed * 

* That is, the doctrine of State's Rights. Of this fatal 
political heresy John C. Calhoun was the father or great 
apostle ; and it ultimately proved the rock on which the 
Southern States split. The Government of this country is 
very much like the solar system. It must be kept nicely 
balanced between the centrifugal and the centripetal forces, 
or else it goes to ruin. Every State revolves around the 
central sun ; but it must also be allowed to turn on its own 
axis. Excessive State sovereignty leads to dissolution ; ex- 



280 BROTHER JONATHAN'S LAMENT. 

(O cursed be hence the politician brood, — 
The lazy cannibals that flourish would, 
And riot, on the people's means and blood !) 

To State's Rights as their sovereignty they 

cleave, 
Yet take whole States without the people's leave, 
Whom they of law, peace, and their sweat be- 
reave. 

cessive United-States sovereignty leads to tyranny and mon- 
archy. In i860, too much deference was paid to " State's 
Rights" ; in 1866, there is probably assumed too much cen- 
tral authority. Since the war is over, it will probably be 
well for the people in all parts of the country to get rid 
of the extreme men of both parties, just as soon as they 
can ; no matter what the talents of these office-holders may 
be. The government machine of this country is so simple, 
that to run it well, requires rather men of honesty and 
firmness, than men of extraordinary talents ; and it spoils 
most men to keep them long in office. 

The Southern people are rather to be pitied than de- 
nounced for having gone into the late war. To most of them 
their motives seemed honorable, or they felt called upon to 
defend rights which it seemed disgraceful to give up without 
a struggle ; but the politicians who brought about this state 
of things, cannot be too severely denounced. 



BROTHER JONATHAN'S LAMENT. 28 1 

Man's equal rights political they spurn ; * 

For royalty or fame their leaders burn, 

And all my land would to their grandeur turn. 

My law and justice, tyranny they call ; 
My growing vigor, my untimely fall ; 
And their dire havoc, the true good of all. 

In dust they trail my starry flag sublime ; 
My children poor they drive to every clime ;f 
The rich they martyr for no other crime. 

War's sternest power I at last must try : 

" Law, Union, Freedom ! " is the rallying cry ; 

And fields, marts, fact'ries, all neglected lie. 

Her stalwart sons the teeming, loyal North 
Pours to the strife from every hamlet forth, 
And rightly deems her cause the best on earth : 

* About this time, several newspapers ridiculed that clause 
of the Declaration of Independence, which says that " all 
men are born free and equal." 

t Think of the fugitives of East Tennessee. 



282 BROTHER JONATHAN'S LAMENT 

For Satan was the first secessionist, 

And various Catilines have graced the list, 

With social sess-pools that no age has missed. 

Now lust o'er law, and might o'er right, seeks 

sway ; 
And knife to knife grows everywhere the fray ; 
And bloodier horrors come with every day. 

Rapine and murder o'er the far West stalk ; 
The bowie-knife lurks by the private walk, 
And soon perhaps the bloodier tomahawk.* 

While every neighbor-feud now finds its vent ; 
And deadly rancor, long on vengeance bent, 
Can find the means to glut its foul intent. 



* About this time, Rebel emissaries were trying to set the 
frontier Indians against the Northwestern States, while the 
men of these States were in the Union army, and away from 
home. 



BROTHER JONATHAN'S LAMENT. 2S3 

And every scoundrel, checked by law or pride, 
Is free to pillage now the country wide, 
And in the patriot can his devil hide.* 

My heart, O God ! grows sick while I survey 
The lowering evils which beset my way ; — 
O lend Thine arm, and lend Thy wisdom's ray ! 

Make Thou my leaders pure, and wise, and 

brave ; 
Preserve the best from an untimely grave ; 
And right again all that Thy bounty gave. 

* Such is the demoralizing power of civil war, that in 
Missouri, for instance, men that once called themselves 
Christians, and prided themselves on their refinement and 
hospitality, became in less than three years the vilest and 
bloodiest of brigands ; and not only did they infest the State 
at large, but they even came back to their own neighbor- 
hoods, to pillage and massacre their former neighbors and 
friends, — yea, even those who had once knelt in the same 
church with them, and partaken of the same bread and wine ! 
Surely no one could have believed before the war, that it is 
possible for civilized men to become in so short a time 
accursed savages ! 



284 BROTHER JONATHAN'S LAMENT. 

When man gets power, he glories in its use ; 
But let all rulers on this maxim muse, — 
The surest way to lose is to abuse* 

Let every one in time this lesson learn, — 
To do his duty strictly ; and thus earn 
An amaranthine wreath to grace his urn. 

Let Thine own spirit stir my warrior bands ; 
Unerring guide whatever mind commands ; 
And check the slaughter-reeking victor's hands 

Rule Thou my politics, too oft a curse ; 
Crush hid corruption that still poisons worse ; 
And secret plottings everywhere disperse. 



* The surest way to lose power is to abuse it. I give this 
maxim in prose, because I cannot satisfactorily weave it into 
verse. It is an important political and physical truth, which 
I published elsewhere several years ago, and which is sel- 
dom sufficiently appreciated until it is too late. 



BROTHER JONATHAN'S LAMENT 285 

From pestilence and faction guard my soil ; 
Make the womb fruitful, bless the farmer's toil ; 
And keep my arms aloof from foreign broil. 

Forsake not, Lord, thy chosen people now ; 
In meek submission to thy wrath we bow ; 
But save at last and fill thy former vow. 

My progress vast, and victories of peace, 

In war are merged, or for a time must cease ; 

And all my glories must abroad decrease. 

My flowering manhood must to battle go ; 
The best and bravest perish with the foe ; 
And many a home bereaved feel Rachel's woe. 

Soothe Thou the bleeding households torn in 

twain ; 
Scarce feels than they more agonizing pain 
The heart that dies upon the battle-plain. 



286 BROTHER JONATHAN'S LAMENT. 

Espouse, God ! my welfare and my cause ; 
Preserve my Union, government, and laws ; 
And purge all faction that to discord draws. 

Perhaps for what was once these rebels long, 
And feel in cool reflection they are wrong,* 
With pangs that well might paralyze the strong. 

But pride and hatred, anger and disgrace, 
Work wondrous strong within a free-born race, 
And oft than yield will rather death embrace. 

Restore Thou, when this shameful f strife is o'er, 
My erring kindred as they were of yore, 
And let curs'd demagogues rule them no more. 



* Perhaps such was the feeling of Stonewall Jackson, when 
he felt touched by the patriotism of Barbara Fritchie, and 
ordered his soldiers not to molest her. 

t Shameful, not only because it sprung from causes that 
never should have produced war, but also from the plunder- 
ing of one party and the cruelty of the other. 



BROTHER JONATHAN'S LAMENT. 287 

Unite again in love the sections both ; 
Be free schools sown for all the Southern youth,* 
That these themselves can seek and find the 
truth. 

And grant, O God ! when this dread war is o'er, 
That slaves with us shall be as slaves no more, 
But find their outlet on their father's shore.f 

* The words, "Educate! educate!!'''' deserve to stand in 
letters of gold over every door-way in this country. Igno- 
rance is the poorest and most debasing of all poverty ; and 
among people enlightened and equalized by education, neither 
tyranny nor injustice can abide, for the haughty quickly feel 
that they dare not assume excessive authority, and the others 
will not tolerate undue assumption of superiority. In a 
social point of view, my limited experience in life enables me 
to say, that the most educated people are always the best 
people, whether as friends, neighbors, soldiers, or citizens. 
Universal education is also the best means of destroying 
hereditary prejudices, feuds, and animosities ; for where 
every one can read, every one learns to judge for himself, 
and such a community always presents the greatest and 
most beautiful variety of individuality of character. 

t The best provision for the future of our Negroes is evi- 



288 BROTHER JONATHAN'S LAMENT. 

Long have they served us with submission 

low. 
Shall we bear Egypt's plagues ere let them go ? 
And rob their rights with our own overthrow ? 

Ah ! who can tell what woes the slave's heart 

fill: 
This short, sweet life beneath a tyrant will, 
Tasked, lashed, and sold, like brutes we use 

and kill ! 

dently emigration and colonization. While the vast primi- 
tive wealth of nature in this country exceeds the human 
power that is now developing it, there is doubtless room for 
Negroes and Chinamen. But this country will soon be filled 
with population ; and when we have progressed so far that 
whites would like to hold the situations held by the colored 
races, then such strife will spring up that all parties will 
wish an outlet for the colored races had been provided long 
before. Besides, what right have we, for the sake of better 
satiating our own greediness, to hasten the development of 
this country in such a way as to entail curses upon our pos- 
terity ? Let only superior races and superior institutions 
ever be rooted in the soil of this country. 



BROTHER JONATHAN'S LAMENT. 2S9 

And who can tell what woes a proud heart feels, 
Stung on all sides by social slights and ills, 
In which the torturing blight of life most dwells ! 

Crinkled and dwarfed grow plants beneath a 

stone ; 
Pressed forest trees shoot high to reach the sun ; 
And the caged lion's fire soon is gone. 

More sweet to life is inborn liberty 
Than dew to buds or honey to the bee, 
Than sun to earth or salt unto the sea. 

But let not these dark millions, here set free, 
E'er mar or stain our Saxon pedigree, 
Like Mexico's degenerate race to be. 

But like some Cheops of our enterprise, 
In Ethiopia's fairest lands let rise 
Their future realm, beneath congenial skies. 
13 s 



290 BROTHER JONATHAN'S LAMENT. 

Yet this deep problem of the public mind,* 
To Thine omniscient goodness be resigned, 
And be Thy will in seeming need defined. 

Grant lastly, Lord, this strife may soon be o'er; 
Let peace shine, like the sun, from shore to 

shore ; 
And civil war rise in this land no more. 

Restore my prestige and the world's hope yet ; 
Let freemen here their highest glory get ; 
And let my sun in Thy millennium set ! 

Washington City. 

* That is, What shall we do with our negroes ? 






CIVIL WAR. 

EFORE the morn has streaked the 
east, 
The ponderous army-wagon rings ; 
Before the sun wakes bird and beast, 
The ambulance its wounded brings. 

The rolling drum, the morning gun, 
Rouse to the duties of the day ; 

And cannon thunders doleful run, 
That tell of carnage far away ! 



Dead, maimed, and wounded everywhere 
Reveal the horrors of the fight ; 

And groans of pain, moans of despair, 
All tell of war's untimely blight. 



292 CIVIL WAR. 

Go where you will, and there will be 

A gloomy silence over all ; 
Go where you will, and you shall see 

Tear-swollen face and sable pall. 

Life huddles, where the armies clash, 

Like waters round the cataract's brink, — 

A moment in the light to flash, 
Then in the dark abyss to sink ! 

At home, from absence, want, and grief, 
Its sweetest buds and flowers wilt ; 

In camps, a thing so frail and brief, 
Quick as a glass of water spilt. 

What though the yeoman's home, as wont, 
Smile in the pride of summer gay, 

Dark bodings all its beauties haunt, 
While he, the lord, is far away. 



CIVIL WAR. 293 

The rose within the garden blooms, 
But tearful eyes gaze on it now ; 

The distant battle-field entombs 

Him who here plighted love's true vow. 



Life seems but for a mockery meant : 
Its happiness and hopes have fled ; 

Such are the ties asunder rent, 

The living go down with the dead ! 



At church so sweet the music peals, 
We know what worshipers are there ; 

While many a garb of black reveals 
The heartless ravages of war. 

Dragged by a rope around their feet, 
The common slain in ditch are cast ; 

And steeds that charged in battle's heat, 
Lie heedless of the bugle's blast. 



294 CIVIL WAR. 

O cruel man ! and must the brute 
That clings to thee without reward, 

And bears all hardships meekly mute, 
Be also in thy fury marred ? * 

The farm that once in beauty smiled, 
The home of many a happy heart, 

Is now a desolated wild, 

With scarce a trace of man or art.f 

Not e'en a cat or 'wildered fowl 

Yet lingers where the cottage stood ; 

The howling dog and hooting owl 
Alone break night's grim solitude. 

* On our great battle-fields, there scarcely appeared, after 
the carnage, a more affecting sight than the thousands of in- 
nocent horses that lay everywhere dead, and frequently lacer- 
ated by shells and cannon-balls in the most shocking manner. 

t Such was the desolation in Virginia, that when I once 
rode during the War through a section of this country, it had 
again the appearance of the silent, primitive wilderness ; and 
some people that had lived near Bull Run, before the battles 
there, never saw afterwards a trace of their homes, but even 
found great difficulty in ascertaining where they once lived ! 



CIVIL WAR. 29S 

The ship lies rotting on the strand ; 

The plough rusts in the field away ; 
The bustling factories silent stand ; 

And flocks and herds untended stray * 

To kill a man was once a crime 
So horrid as to shock all hearts ; 

But now 't is heard so many a time, 
It scarce a wish to know imparts. 

Once were sincerity and truth 

Prized dearly, and found far and nigh ; 

But dread and treachery now, forsooth, 
Fill every place from low to high. 



* There was not much of this state of things during the 
War ; still there was some of it in the North, especially at 
the commencement ; and there was always a considerable 
amount of it in the South. When war begins, all the chan- 
nels of industry soon converge into one great stream to sup- 
port it. 



2 9 6 CIVIL WAR. 

Who once were friends, each other shun 
As if the plague-spot were on each ; 

'Twixt wife and husband even run 
Opinions with their fatal breach * 

In field the son his father slays, 
As oft the father slays his son ; 

The nearest kin seek adverse frays, 
And broth'r by brother is undone. 

Men once in peace and concord dwelt, 
Howe'er in views they disagreed ; 

But now Proscription's power is felt, 
And Tyranny's obsequious breed. 

Each day some shocking tale sends forth, 
Of slaughter, cruelty, or wrong ; 

And law and decency on earth 

Seem but a mocked forgotten song. 

* Better : " Even betwixt wife and husband runs Opinion's 
fatal breach " ; but the necessities of the measure compel 
the adoption of an inferior expression. 



CIVIL WAR. 297 

For every passion seeks for blood, 

And every lust a devil grows ; 
Men seek, like cannibals, their food, 

And make their land a land of woes. 

Poor mortals for life's pleasures grasp 

Upon the very brink of hell ; 
And yield to Sin's dark serpent clasp, 

As Hope withdraws her anchoring spell* 



* It is remarkable how soon, in civil war, life becomes 
cheap, and people become reckless in regard to it. Seeing 
that existence is uncertain and brief, they feel determined 
not to be cheated out of the few pleasures, of life, and there- 
fore they give themselves up recklessly to the gratification of 
their appetites and passions. Death stares them in the face 
like the Egyptian coffin that was brought in at banquets 
before the guests as a stimulus to enjoy themselves the more 
while they live and have the opportunity, — for the grave 
would soon preclude them from the pleasures of worldly life. 
Sailors, when they find in a storm that their ship must sink, 
usually rush down into the hold, and drink and eat them- 
selves full to the utmost capacity of enjoyment, before they 
go down into their sea-graves. 



298 CIVIL WAR. 

Good Lord ! beneath whose righteousness 
The sins and wrongs of nations die ; 

Beneath whose eye, for Thee to bless, 
All nations panoramic lie, — 

O let our hopes, storm-crushed to earth, 

Again with heavenly fragrance rise ; 
And be our throes the Christian birth 
Of such a life as never dies ! 
Washington City, 1862. 





GENERAL KEARNEY, 




OLL, sad bell ! toll, 
For the chieftain dead ; 

Roll, cannons ! roll, 

Deep, doleful, and dread ! 



For a nobler form 
Ne'er passed away 

From the battle-storm, 
To mix with clay. 



When the field was wrapt 
In fire and bleeding, 

To the charge he swept. 
His squadrons leading. 



30o 



GENERAL KEARNEY. 

On his chivalrous brow- 
Shone victory's light, 

While his steed plunged through 
The billowy fight. 

But a whizzing ball 

Strikes the hero low, 
Where the front ranks fall 

Of the baffled foe! 



Yet his eagle look 

Of glorious daring, 
Not in death forsook 

His martial bearing : 

That, though dead, he seems 
Even yet to command 

To the battle-flames 

All who round him stand ! 



GENERAL KEARNEY. 30I 

Every heart feels stirred 

To its deepest fountain, 
And as if it heard 

Fairy trumpets sounding ! 

O my country ! ne'er 

Can thy glory wane, 
While thy soil will rear 

Such noble men. 

By the deeds they do, 

By their lives bereft, 
Thou shalt stronger grow 

In the living left. 

And from memory deep 

Of thy history grand, 
Every heart shall leap 

To its native land. 



302 



GENERAL KEARNEY. 

Then, comrades brave ! 

Round the sable bier, 
And the yawning grave, 

Shed the pitying tear, 

For the hero sealed 

In the flower of his glory, 
To stand ever revealed 

In immortal story. 



But give for your chief 
But a day to sorrow ; 

And to action, not grief, 
Each life-bright to-morrow ! 
Washington City, October, 1862. 



^ 



GENERAL KEARNEY. 303 



NOTE. 

General Philip Kearney. — During the late 
War, I saw several corpses of eminent military 
men, and many of common soldiers ; but all these 
persons seemed to have been utterly overcome and 
subdued by Death in the last few moments of 
worldly life, and looked indeed "quite chapfallen," 
except Kearney. Every lineament of his corpse 
seemed to be still alive with the gallant spirit that 
had animated it ; and there was such a look of 
eagerness and joyous daring in his fine eagle face 
as I had never seen before. It produced, indeed, 
a momentary illusion as if he were still command- 
ing all around him to charge into the furious 
midst of the battle ! As he lay before us in his 
flag-shrouded coffin, with his head slightly averted, 
and thrown back — with his tall and symmetrical 
form — and " with his martial cloak around him/' — 
looking every inch the gallant soldier he was, — 
some of us wept over him as we should have wept 
over a near relative ; and never before did I feel so 
deeply the guiltiness of that treason which caused 
the sacrifice of so noble a life. The morning was 
crystal clear, and filled with the balmiest sunshine ; 
but the night had been pitch-dark, and overspread 
with a terrible thunder-storm, in the early part of 



304 



GENERAL KEARNEY. 



which he was killed. Both night and morning 
seemed emblematic, — the former, of his military- 
exit, and his country's seeming destiny; and the 
latter, of the transcendent glory which now rests in 
imperishable splendor upon both. 





ODE TO HEALTH. 




WEET blooming Health ! propitious 

maid ! 
From blissful skies descend ; 
And, in all youthful charms arrayed, 
Be thou my constant friend. 



I ask not for the tawdry show 
That decks the rich and vain ; 

Nor envy, of ambition's crew, 
Those who their wishes gain. 

Without thee, every blessing is 
But mockery or disgust ; 

With thee, mere life itself is bliss, 
Though living on a crust. 



306 ODE TO HEALTH. 

Can genius, wealth, or titles ease 
The weary couch of pain ? 

Can love or friendship give release 
From Death's funereal train ? 

To verdant fields and mountains blue, 
Come, stroll with me and mine ; 

And where the ocean meets the view, 
Or glassy rivers shine. 

Give to the need of daily toil 

Thy comfort, strength, and cheer ; 

And let thy hardy sports beguile 
All seasons of the year. 

And ever, goddess, hold thy reign 

Within my cottage nest ; 
Thou, and thy happy, cheerful train, — 

Contentment, peace, and rest. 




MY BIBLE. 

Religion, the only source of genuine happiness and perfect consolation. 

•HEN sorrows press upon my 
heart, 
And painful thoughts distress, 
Religion can relief impart, 

And soothe my thoughts to peace. 




Should every tie that love has made 

Be rudely torn away, — 
Should every hopeful prospect fade, 

Or end in dark dismay, — 



Should envy, malice, scorning pride, 
Their venomed arrows dart, — 

And fortune raise, on every side, 
Fresh ills to bruise the heart, — 



308 MY BIBLE 

Yea., should this world to me appear 

A wilderness of woe, — 
God's Word will teach me how to bear, 

And guide me as I go. 

What else can cheer the drooping soul, 

In sickness or in age ? 
What else the dying hour console, 

And joyful hopes engage ? 

When Death my soul from earth has riven, 

In other worlds to dwell, 
This can unlock the doors of heaven, 

Defy the gates of hell. 

This leads where the Redeemer reigns, — 

To New Jerusalem ; 
As once by night, on Syria's plains, 

The Star of Bethlehem. 






MY BIBLE. 309 

When piety is in the heart, 
The world 's an Eden still ; 
■ More bliss God's mercies can impart, 
Than is the pain from ill.* 

They who have gained the world's control, 
Have found at last but this, — 

That naught can satisfy the soul, 
Save hope of endless bliss. 

Then may I never be a slave 

For worldly good to plod ; 
But as my body to the grave, 

So draw, my soul, to God. 
1853. 

* That is, rather than repine over the ills which we suffer, 
we should feel happy and grateful in surveying the many 
blessings which we enjoy, and the loving benevolence to- 
ward man which is everywhere apparent in God's works. 





TO FLORA. 

HERE is rapture in loving a beauti- 
ful maid, 
Blithe and bright as a bird in a 
summer-bright morning ; 
With a heart all by goodness and purity swayed, 
And by love that is mad from the depth of 
its burning. 

There is comfort in loving a woman of worth. 
Whose great wealth of heart and whose 
mind's solid treasures 
Will be solace, light, strength, in the turmoil 
of earth, 
And make home a garden of exquisite pleas- 
ures. 



TO FLORA. 3II 

But there 's glory in loving where both are in 
one, 
And a man's heart may plunge without fear 
of regretting ; 
Where both lives are doubled by blending 
alone, 
In a fortress of bliss that defies all besetting 






THE BROADWAY WIDOW. 

She can be seen any fair afternoon, on the fashionable side of Broadway. 

IDO loud of old protested 

Ne'er to have a second flame ; 
. But she found she had but jested, 
When the stately Trojan came. 

Loveliest, like the sun when beaming 
Through the dark and tearful storm, 

Is the mellow beauty gleaming 
From the luring mourner's form. 

Nature a disguise may borrow, 
Yet this maxim true will prove, — 

Spite of pride and spite of sorrow, 
She that has a heart must love. 



THE BROADWAY WIDOW. 



313 



Since from death there 's no returning, 
When one lover bids adieu, 

All the pomp and farce of mourning 
Are but signals for a new ! 




14 



BURNS. 



On the celebration of his centennial birthday, in Washington City, 
D. C, Jan. 25th, 1859. 

A bust of the poet, large as life, is supposed to be placed at the head 
of the table ; and while the master of the banquet unveils this bust, and 
crowns it with laurel, the guests rise to their feet, and with song and wine 
toast the canonized bard. 




TWINE the fresh green laurel- 
wreath 



Around the brow of thought di- 



vine, 
Where genius sparkled underneath 

More brilliant than the stars that shine ; 
And while the rosy moments fly, 

And all the heart to friendship turns, 
Fill ye your crystal goblets high, 

In memory of immortal Burns ! 



BURNS. 315 

The master spirits of the earth, 

Who wake to song the golden lyre, 
Who give the noble passions birth, 

And elevate the low desire, — 
O, while the heart its homage pays, 

And to their beaming glory turns, 
Let us these flowery goblets raise 

In honor of immortal Burns ! 

The glen, the brae, the wimpling brook, 

The flower, the bud, the tender maid, 
Fresh beauties from his pencil took, 

And stand in nature's charms arrayed ; 
The peasant, as he boldly roves, 

Fired by his muse, indignant spurns 
All fetters but enchanting: love's, — 

Our goblets to immortal Burns ! 

What man that feels the patriot glow, 
And goes for home his blood to shed, 



3 i6 BURNS. 

But strikes a deeper, deadlier blow, 

From " Scots wha hae wi' Wallace bled " ! 

And how the eye resistless fills, 
And sympathetic bosom yearns, 

When matchless " Highland Mary " thrills, — 
Our goblets to immortal Burns ! 

Found friendship e'er a sweeter voice 

Than melts the heart in "Auld Lang Syne " ? 
Has earth more blest domestic ties 

Than in the Cotter's home entwine ? 
And then the Daisy, " bonny gem," 

O'Shanter's ride, and Man that mourns, — 
What truth, what pathos, glow in them ! — 

Our goblets to immortal Burns ! 

Though early crushed by want and woes, 
He spurned to cringe to man or fate, 

And ne'er forgot, 'mid griefs and foes, 
* A man 's a man for a' that " ; 






BURNS. 

And yet his genial love still bloomed 
Beneath a harsh world's bleeding thorns, 

Which his brave heart untimely doomed, — 
Our goblets to immortal Burns ! 

Embalmed in ever-glorious verse, 

The bard shall triumph over Time ; 
A beacon to light up life's course, 

Far streaming from its height sublime ; 
A quenchless star that cannot fall 

While earth upon her axle turns : — 
Then drain your votive goblets all, 

In memory of immortal Burns ! 





FLORA. 

^^3jWWY love is like the dewy rose, 

.- - \ fiyM And blooms as sweet in dainty 
P^^SEk rec i ; 

Or like the light-red pink that blows 
So fragrant in the garden's bed. 

My love is like the lily tall, 

Of purest and imperial look, 
Yet modest as the violet small, 

That nestles by the velvet brook. 



My love is like the clasping vine, 
And clings to me, and me alone ; 

Ne'er touched by other lips than mine, 
Her virgin heart is all my own. 



FLORA. 3! 9 

My love is like the orange-tree 
That blooms in milk-white purity ; 

So pure in life and thought is she, 
There 's not a breath of obloquy. 



My love is like the evergreen 

That cheers us through the winter bare ; 
When all the world 's a dreary scene, 

I still find love's strong verdure there. 



My love is like the diamond bright, 
All polished with the finest art ; 

And radiates sweet affection's light 
Thus from her good, angelic heart. 

My love is like the morning star, 
Conspicuous o'er a myriad host ; 

And sweeter far her love-tones are 

Than sphere-sung hymns on Eden's coast. 



3 20 FLORA. 

My love is like the turtle-dove, 

As fond, and true, and void of art, — 

A spiritual dove sent from above, 
To cheer and bless my lonely heart. 

If maids on earth can be so fair, 

Then what, in heaven, must angels be ? 

And is not love a fountain here 
That flows through immortality ? 





LINES TO LAURA. 



NCE my heart was knit to thine, 

In the ties of sweet affection ; 
Love then made you seem divine, 
And concealed each imperfection. 




But too soon your sordid heart 
Showed itself a fickle rover ; 

And you snared, with wily art, 
A debased but richer lover. 



Now with me, in public view, 

Very soon you scorned appearing, 

And, when I saluted you, 

Turned away with looks of sneering. 
14* u 



322 LIXES TO LAURA. 

Or, when I called at your door, 
You were absent or too busy ; 

Till I swore I nevermore 

Would call on the stuck-up hussy ! 

Long, with him, at ball and church 
And in buggy round you flirted ; 

Till he left you in the lurch, 

Dangled with, but never courted. 

Now you Ve grown polite again, 
Greeting me when I don't see you ; 

But your spider's net keep in, 

I '11 not play the fly's part wi' you. 

And remember they whom pride 
Lifts up high above their fellows, 

When their wings are scorched must hide 
In their native weeds and shallows. 



LINES TO LAURA. 

If, too, good 't will do you, hear 
I have found a nobler maiden, 

And my daisies hence I '11 rear 
In her bosom's purer Eden. 



1854. 





A LEAF OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 




EIGHO ! what's this ? and who has 
done it all ? 
Have spirits invisible, or earthquake 
shocks, 
Or, — Robbed ! robbed ! robbed ! from nine 

o'clock to three, 
In broad daylight, and in the city's heart, 
Where people swarm by thousands all day long, 
And huge policemen, armed with leaden club, 
Perambulate about on every corner. 
It is too bad ! Ne'er, ne'er my heart was 

stirred 
By heaven's thunder, or Niagara's flood, 
Or stinting boarding-house, or dingy shirt 



A LEAF OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 325 

With button off, so deeply, so intensely, 

As now. Indeed, it is too bad ! But then 

There are so many rogues in Washington ! 

Yet why could not the scamps alight upon 

Some sly contractor, plethoric with stealage, 

Or some fat office-squab with much less feeling, 

And twice the pay at least from which to spare ? 

Or why not go direct, and boldly rob, 

Like other " honorable men " we 've known, 

The Treasury itself ? But to attack 

A muse's bower, lined with classic lore, 

A garret bare, traditionary poor, 

And in this case my tower of observation 

On the world,— is sure the climax of all villany ! 

But let us see what is the damage done : — 
That door-lock, with "five tumblers," "war- 
ranted " — 
To fail, it seems, the rogues as lightly picked 
As drunkard's pocket, and, when done, again 



326-4 LEAF OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

Politely locked! But, then, that trunk-lock, 

mark — 
How violently these fell secessionists 
Did wrench and knock it from its loyal trust ! 
For still the wooden splinters stick within, 
Like strands of flesh betwixt a lion's fangs. 
Some generals near this town, the nation's 

heart, 
Who on the nation's bounty long had loafed, 
Not half such heroes were in peril's hour, 
To guard the patrimony of their lord. 
But, lo ! within the trunk, what multitudinous 
Confusion ! scarce a lady's trunk could match 

it. 
How eagerly the rascals searched for money ! 
But none they found, for none indeed was 

there ; — 
Blest manna, which by far too seldom falls 
Upon my desert wilderness of life ; 
But when it comes, it just as quickly goes, 
To glad the hearts of others and my own. 



A LEAF OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 327 

Alas ! my Sunday -go-to-meeting clothes, 
The livery in which I serve my Lord, 
The Devil sent the rogues to bear away ; 
The finery, too, in which I play the beau, — 
So for a time I must forego to see 
The lovely Flora, and then who can tell — 
Since " direful woes from little causes spring," 
And sorrows ever in battalions come — 
But some spruce rival, richer now than I, 
May in the mean time bear the prize away ? 

Socks, shirts, unmentionables, that were new, 

Are all non est ; so that, save what I 've on, 

I 'm left in plight a very sans-cnlotte. 

That box of bronze, which was a sort of shrine 

For things of holy memory, and of grave 

Responsibilities to come, is also rifled. 

My debts, it seems, they did not wish to pay, 

For carefully they left the duns they found. 

But gone is that rich pen of figured gold, 



328 A LEAF OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

That muse-inspiring gift of hallowed love, 
Flora's own gift. Alas ! for this indeed 
No remedy there is, unless I can 
Replace the loss by the fair donor's self. 
And gone that medal, academic prize, 
Which I as proudly wore, in triumph's hour, 
As ever Eastern autocrat his crown. 
And gone — but here the tears begin to flow — 
Those sacred relics which my good enskied 
And sainted mother left in her last hour 
For her own darling boy, then far away ! 

ate A. ate. jfc - jto 

Bed, bureau, table, windows, all they searched ; 

And all that pawning Jew might take that bore 

No mark which could reveal the scamps, is gone. 

Even the table-drawer out they drew : 

And there the shameless rascals slyly peeped 

At all the Muses in their dishabille ; 

But, to their honor ever be it said, 

They did not ravish them ! Each sign and trace 



A LEAF OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 32 g 

That may assist policemen to detect 
The sharks, it may be well to glean and tell ; 
That they may also share the spoils, or help 
The rogues to get away. For with police, 
'Tis true, that handling pitch defiles, and 

that 
" A fellow-feeling makes us wondrous kind." 

As to myself, made bankrupt in my nest, 

Like Burns's mouse, turned by the ploughshare 

out, — 
Let me for consolation search my mind. 
Wisdom, says Solomon, is better far 
Than gold or jewels ; and so I perceive, 
For I have learned a lesson that will stick, 
And lost the little worldly trash I had. 
But there 's a luxury in having naught, 
Which careworn millionnaires can never know. 
The only perfect freeman on this earth 
Is he who nothing is, and nothing has. 



330 A LEAF OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

A traveller that has nothing, none will rob ; 
A sheep, already shorn, can lose no wool ; 
A hungry hound will run the best in chase ; 
The empty swimmer surest gains the shore ; * 
The hawk that carries least can farthest fly ; 
The tree that slowest grows the longest lives, 
And that which bears the least the largest 

grows ; 
Fruit that feels canker prematurely falls ; 
Too many blossoms make the less of fruit ; 
On leafless trees no caterpillars prey ; 
Quartz, without ore, the miner will not grind ; 
On empty nest no hen needs stay to hatch ; 
An empty nut no vermin will disturb ; 
An empty pitcher cannot freeze and crack ; 
An empty brook the sun cannot dry up ; 
An engine, without steam, cannot explode ; 
A lowly bush the lightning will not strike ; 
A beehive without honey stands secure ; 

* Of heaven and eternity. 



A LEAF OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY, y^i 

A cabbage without head will never burst ; 
A juiceless apple is not apt to rot ; 
And what is lowest cannot lower fall. 

" A loan oft loses both itself and friend, 
And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry." 

Patrons in politics are base and false : 
They bloom in promises that never fruit, 
And blight the virtuous youth who in them 

trusts ; 
So that he afterwards ne'er thinks of them, 
Except with curses crawling in his heart. 

The milk of office poisons while it feeds ; 
A grave-yard helps the logic of a church ; 
And self-reliance is the soul of fortune. 

Then let me smile o'er this dramatic scene, 
And elsewhere trust to labor and the Lord. 
Washington City, 1862. 




PORTRAIT OF A POLITICIAN. 

Instructive Satire ! true to Virtue's cause ! 
Thou shining supplement of public laws ! 

Young. 
Whoe'er offends, at some unlucky time, 
Slides into verse, and hitches in a rhyme. 

Pope. 
Indignatio facit versus, si Natura negat. 

Juvenal. 

(" It is but fancy's sketch.") 

Scene — Washington City. 
HOGGISH snout, with rusty bristles 

hedged ; 
Snake eyes through which glares out 
the Devil caged ; 
A froggish nose that squats impertinent out, 
And monstrous ears whose likeness none can 

doubt ; 
A baboon noddle, full of knots and flats, 
With sandy shag, coarse as the brain it mats, 
And basket backhead full of sensual brains, 
Chief Pandemonium where the Devil reigns : 




PORTRAIT OF A POLITICIAN. 



333 



A face where meanness hangs out as the sign, 
And selfishness is graved in every line ; 
A scamp whom Nature out of rubbish made, 
And surely meant for cleaver, axe, or spade ; 
A bore whom instinct prompts us not to meet, 
And some, to shun him, always cross the street ; 
A grog-shop eel, whose fiery, frowzy skin 
Smells of the rotgut burning him within ; 
And such a glutton that the waiters stare, 
And landlords lose that charge no extra fare ! * 

Yet coarse and mean and selfish as he is, 

And with the whole stamped plainly in his phiz, 

An office under Government holds he, 

As fat and easy as a place can be ; 

While many a better man must go without, 

And bear the holder's insolence and flout. 



* The foregoing physical type of men is probably that 
which yields most easily to political corruption. But there 
are honorable exceptions ; while men of a different physique 
may be also very corrupt, especially wherever there is a 
predominance of the lymphatic temperament. 



334 PORTRAIT OF A POLITICIAy 

No puffed Mogul, upon his diamond throne, 
No Sultan Turk, " too fond to rule alone," 
No Feejee chief, who deems his isle the world, 

E'er loved so well, or to the handle used, 
" A little brief authority," or mused 
In airier castles all his prospects o'er, 
And all the honors yet for him in store. 

At once he turns the best of men away, 
For sycophants that flatter him each day, — 
Vile parasitic pudding-pots that hang 
Around the public crib a deathless gang, — 
Till every subject in his little realm 
Pipes just to suit the master at the helm ; 
And the soul-eunuched crew, debauched and 

base, 
Will do all jobs for party, lord, and place. 

Now feeling all his glory, and secure, 
And keen to show he was not bred a boor, 



PORTRAIT OF A POLITICIAN. 



i35 



And anxious, too, to make his merits known, 
That more promotion may uplift him soon, 
He deems it wise to bask in public gaze, 
And goes to parties, balls, levees, and plays ; 
Though everywhere his actions and his tongue 
Reveal a mushroom from a dung-hill sprung, 
A tipsy upstart that would lead and rule, 
A liveried blackguard, and a varnished fool. 

With whiskers dyed, and trained in formal cut, 
And hair curled hot in phrenologic strut ; 
With breast-pin that astonishes the sight, 
So huge it seems to be the "Mount of Light" ; 
With ponderous watch-chain and a flashy 

vest, — 
He seeks to shine as first among the best ; 
And aims to play the most conspicuous part, 
In spite of want of common sense and art. 

Full oft he twists and smacks his mouth, when 
sweet 



336 PORTRAIT OF A POLITIC! AX. 

Glides through his pate some gorgeous self- 
conceit. 

He thinks himself sighed for by all the fair, 

And struts with pride that seems to climb the 
air. 

Where'er he goes, he looks for great respect, 

And grows imperious with the least neglect. 

Tyrant to all dependent on his love, 

As fawning to the powers that rule above. 

His brazen voice grows huskier day by day, 

And oft he chokes for something big to say. 

He claims to know what none e'er knew 
before ; 

The cyclopaedia he has travelled o'er ; 

And soon he lets clerks, belles, and mothers 
know, 

That he 's no less a 

Poor name once honoring but the wise and 
grave, 

But now usurped by every quack and knave. 



PORTRAIT OF A POLITICIAN. 337 

" Maidens, like moths, are ever caught by 

glare," 
And titles win where virtues must despair : 
There is some vantage spot in humblest life, 
Where every man, perhaps, can catch a wife ; 
And better 't is to anchor soon the heart, 
Than let it drift without a port or chart. 
This spot our hero thought to him had come, 
With brightest prospect for a princely home ; 
And on life's stream he ever meant to wait, 
Till he could hail a nymph that passed with 

freight ; 
For he too lazy was, and bred unfit, 
To ever earn his bread by work or wit ; 
And long ago he lost his little all 
At places that the Muse would blush to call 
So now he sallied forth to snare the heart 
Of some young damsel, handsome, rich, and 

smart ; 
Or of, at least, some unsubstantial thing 



338 PORTRAIT OF A POLITICIAN. 

That might substantial wealth and credit bring. 
Deceived by pompous show and bragging prate, 
Some silly mothers deem him something great ; 
And heart-lone maids, long hungering for a 

chance, 
By first receptions lure to more advance. 

But what a pity, gilding will not wear, 
And that we lose our castles in the air ; 
Or that some folks will always pry below, 
And seek to know the background of a show ! 

Too soon he found that women, after all, 
Are rather shrewd in matters conjugal. 
Not frogs alone will look before they leap, 
And rabbits see, e'en when they seem asleep. 
A lady often values as a beau 
For whom as spouse her sentiment is No ! 
Love, as an art, pays rarely for the cost, 
And oft is gained the least while sought the 
most. 



PORTRAIT OF A POLITICIAN. 339 

Even noblest men may make a luckless dash, 
For women prove too often simply trash ! 1 
Fickle and false, of vain and shallow mind, 
Ill-formed, diseased, to worth and duty blind ; 
Great sticklers for life's outward forms and gloss, 
Dear fashion's fools, their husbands' thorns 

and cross : 
And where a maid superior cheers a home, 
All youngsters wolfish watch her opening 

bloom ; 
Whence oft she 's made a fool, if not outcast, 
Or takes for life a crooked stick at last. 

In talk he rarely blundered into sense ; 
'T was either flattery gross or impudence. 
The haughty fair would scarcely deign reply ; 
And unregarded rolled his fawning eye. 
Full oft to him they were not most polite, 
And kept their distance when he came in 
sight. 



340 



PORTRAIT OF A POLITICIAN. 



So when at last he found that none would yield, 
He drew all soured from the luckless field ; 
In dissipation strove his thoughts to shun, 
Like many other fools when hopes are gone. 



In those deep haunts, whose regal splendor 

shows 
Just where the people's hard-earnea money 

goes, 



PORTRAIT OF A POLITICIAN. 



341 



And why so very slowly melts away 
The public debt, though vast the tax we pay, — 
In those gay haunts, for pleasure all designed, 
He found a vent and opiate for his mind. 



The Muse can scarcely take the time to name 
Cards, billiards, and each other gambling game ; 
Or note the gay refreshment places all, 
Where lewdest pictures decorate the wall. 



342 PORTRAIT OF A POLITICIAN. 

Thus taught of what the " elephant " is made, 
Our knight the nation's core of life surveyed, 
And variously enriched his hollow mind : 
First, with more insight into woman-kind ; 
Especially from those who come from far, 
And here most gay, free, and presumptuous 

are ; 
(For why, from home, not bid the Devil come, 
Provided only you 're a saint at home ?) 



Next, in the glorious art of politics, — 
That royal gambling, full of slippery tricks ; 
For in these haunts, and in the chief hotels, 
While friendly night their plotting work con- 
ceals, 
The sachems of all parties congregate, 
To splice the ties of interest, love, and hate. 



PORTRAIT OF A POLITICIAN. 343 

Here do they meet, to coo, and bill, and swill, 
Adjust the spoils, and sugar-coat the pill 
Oysters lie open while they suck and feed ; 
So is it with the politician breed. 
Hearts melt together in soft pleasure's heat ; 
Hence people sport together, drink, and eat. 

Would you a genuine politician move ? 

Talk not of justice, public good, or love ; 

But show him rather where the stealage lies, 

And let the pile rise huge before his eyes ; 

Show how you out can pry him, or disgrace, 

Or lift him higher to a better place ; 

Ply him meanwhile with dinners and with wine, 

And he will think your cause of right divine ; 

Never regard you as a scamp or bore, 

And serve you well — till others pay him more. 

Here, as we said, they one another hail, 
Examine freight,* and windward set the sail ; 

* Better, " Examine passengers " ; but this word would 
make the line too long. 



344 PORTRAIT OF A POLITICIAN. 

Plan how their deep corruptions they may hide, 
Or charge them all upon the other side ; 
Provide, by black-mail, burrowing, office-sale, * 
The funds in next elections to prevail ; 
Concoct their resolutions, and decide 
Who shall make speeches, and who shall preside, 
At those prime meetings, specious, drunk, and 

loud, 
Which win that doubly long-eared ass, — the 

crowd ; 
Where sophistry, like Jack-a-lantern fire, 
They scatter, and the press suborn or hire ; 
And where they at the end again produce, 
As candidates, the hacks worn out by use, 
That pulled the wires, cause the fuss and blab, 
And to the people stick like leprous scab ! 
Thus do they still by agitation live, 

* Black-mail : Frequently, the leaders of a party in po^ver 
levy contributions on the inferiors in office, especially the 
clerks ; a tax that is plainly a species of black-mail. 

Burrowing : In the West, ground-squirrels, as they are 



PORTRAIT OF A POLITICIAN. 345 

And life and strength to every discord give, 
That they may always in elections win, 
And keep themselves and theirs forever in ; 
Yea, — more than vanquish, — cripple and 

appall 
The outside wolves that glare in o'er the wall ! 

A dog that once has tasted blood of sheep, 
Will ever thence his wolfish habit keep ; 
A thief will never quit his fingering trade, 
Though lash and prison lend their friendly aid ; 
Gamblers grow thirstier still at cards and dice, 
And frail ones ne'er forsake their customed 
vice : 

called, frequently burrow under the cribs of the farmers, to 
steal corn. The analogy to the Public Crib is obvious. 

Office-sale : In some parts of our country, offices, that 
should be given gratis to ability and merit, are regularly sold, 
for their own emolument, by those who have the right to be- 
stow them. It is said that in New York city, during the 

reign of , all the offices in the gift of the Mayor 

were constantly sold, — that of the Sheriff having been dis- 
posed of, in one instance, for $ 8,000 ! 
15* 



346 PORTRAIT OF A POLITICIAN. 

But more than Satan ever to a soul, 

Cling politicians to the office-roll ; 

Ease, power, wealth, and honor all combine 

To whet the lusts which human nature line ; 

So that who once has felt official state, 

Is thenceforth a perpetual candidate ; 

No more can live, like other folks, by work, — 

Restless and plotting, and a man of mark, 

Than grow and wear who 'd rather rot and rust, 

And pine in rankling "pride that licks the 

dust"; 
Whence self-respect and conscience die within 
These all-polite, all-cousining, flunky men. 2 

Our knight thus learned a statesman's craft to 

know, 
And in what soil the roots of honor grow. 
Though since our sons we to some college send, 
That their crowned skill may in diplomas end ; 
'T were well to make them con, for state career, 
Philadelphia and New York at least a year ; 






PORTRAIT OF A POLITICIAN. 347 

To learn how without conscience men can run 
All sorts of state machinery, and when done, 
Though fresh from human sewerage they alight, 
Be pure as saints, and come out " honor bright " ! 
He who learns nothing there by seeing once, 
Must either be too honest or a dunce. 

Our knight soon had for all his tactics need, 
For Honor keeps a small hotel indeed, 
Against the many who are thither led ; 
Hence some are ever pushed sheer out of bed, 
Must unprovided meet the outer cold, 
And grope in darkness for another hold. 
Birds, beasts, and reptiles prey on one another, 
And 'gainst himself man seldom spares his 

brother ; 
Their votary soon the lusts of world and flesh 
Keep busy in an ever-tangling mesh. 

His clerks but seldom found him in their way ; 
They did the work, while he received the pay. 



348 PORTRAIT OF A POLITICIAN. 

Even theirs he kept, for worst he found of 

course 
Jack Falstaff's plague, " consumption of the 

purse." 
He else so seldom to his office stepped, 
That scarce he knew just where the thing was 

kept ; 
And sure all vermin claim the native right 
To sleep by day, that prowl about at night ! 

He who holds office, must his leisure take 
To hold his old friends, and new friends to make ; 
Must ever 'gainst his foes his fort refit, 
And strategy by strategy outwit ; 
Must do as do the rest, though conscience heave, 
Or else he 's no good fellow, and must leave. 
Little the time and peace for reading given, 
For noble works, and thoughts that lead to 

heaven. 
At honesty and virtue men now mock ; 
And villainy, well done, gives pleasant talk. 



PORTRAIT OF A POLITICIAN. 349 

Alas ! how quickly have we run to mire, 

Forgot the Red Sea, and the cloud of fire ; 

Grown impious on the manna kindly given ; 

Preferred the gold calf to the love of Heaven ; 

And spurned the law 'midst thunder-flashes 
sent, 

In granite words, from Sinai's firmament, 

Where angels touched earth's sweetly bloom- 
ing sod, 

And gave to man the blessing of their God ! 

Such were we not when Vernon's noble chief 
Led forth Columbia smiling after grief ; 
And hoary Father Time looked joyful out 
From haloed sky, amid angelic shout, 
And saw his youngest, loveliest daughter 

given 
As queen to earth and votaress of Heaven. 
Then every virtue was with honor crowned ; 
Then every vice was from acceptance frowned ; 
Angelic forms smiled from our temple's sky, 



350 



PORTRAIT OF A POLITICIAN. 



And hell's foul brood slunk hated from the eye ! * 
Nations can only by strict justice live ; 
Virtue and light the life of freedom give ; 
Or by our throne, each like a guardian grace, 
Must Truth and Peace and Righteousness em- 
brace 

And soon beneath his sinecure and show, 

Our knight felt now and then a touch of woe. 

All paths of life are by some ills beset ; 

Few folks can get their bread without the sweat ; 

And even in politics at last found he, 

That honesty is the best policy. 

Good character and motives, like the sun, 

Shine through all atmospheres though foul and 

dun ; 
Bad character and motives, with a shock, 
Explode like blasting powder in a rock. 

* Analogous to the well-placed but imperfectly designed 
painting in the dome of the Capitol. These lines, however, 
were not suggested by this painting, but rather from the 
memory of Michael Angelo's masterpiece. 



PORTRAIT OF A POLITICIAN. 351 

He who sets out a knave, and means for tools 
To use the people as productive fools, 
Soon finds them Argus-eyed, in instincts keen, 
And far too proud for puppets of a scene. 
They hate false gods, and will not play the slave ; 
And woe to him whom once they deem a knave. 
Though passion may the ship of state careen, 
The ballast 's good : 't will right itself again. 
Though city trash and hirelings may vote in 
Their bribing, bullying pimps of social sin ; 
Yet still as snowflakes, strong as whirlwind 

storm, 
The purer rural votes will all reform : 
So that in politics, when years have past, 
'T is honesty that wins the crown at last! 

Pity the man who lives by ends and odds, 
And likes no drink but nectar of the gods ; 
Who sure yet lowly independence slights, 
And seeks to climb ambition's barren heights, — 



352 PORTRAIT OF A POLITICIAN. 

The peaks of politics, whose slippery ice 
Is never safe, and leans o'er sloughs of vice. 
Like a rosette an office you may wear, 
But how you make the thing a staff beware. 
Our hero oft regrets the life he 's led, 
And contemplates his destiny with dread. 
Though good resolves sprout sometimes in his 

heart, 
The season's late, and weeds have got the start. 
Soon thoughts licentious re-assume their place, 
And skeptic doctrines slyly whisper peace. 
But finding that his reputation 's low, 
He grows polite where once he was not so. 
To form acquaintanceship, he takes more pains, 
With men distinguished for their place or 

brains. 
A star that cannot shine with native light, 
May faintly gleam another's satellite. 
Before elections these of course will ask, 
That he should dine with them and drink a flask ; 



PORTRAIT OF A POLITICIAN. 353 

Then, somewhat as clown rowdy of the feast, 
He seeks to make himself a source of jest : 
Some folks whose merits are for note too small, 
Will rather shine in faults than not at all. 
For them his manhood does he prostitute, 
And grow as pliant as a lashed-in brute ; 
For them a cur, to growl, to bark, or bite, 
Just where they point, — no matter, wrong or 

right ; 
Though oft they show him, without much dis- 
guise, 
'T is but the service, not the man, they prize. 
He does the dirty work they dare not touch, 
Though that it should be done behooves them 
much. 

On public days he takes especial care 
To put himself forth with conspicuous air, 
In some front place, that all may wish to know 
What great man that is, or what charming beau. 



354 PORTRAIT OF A POLITICIAN. 

Perhaps by luck and by his impudence. 
He may have to preside there some pretence ; 
Be groom o'er dogs, spittoons, or something less, 
And see his name with gentlemen's in press. 
Such vain conceits in some folks' hearts prevail, 
They 'd rather drag a kettle at the tail, 
Than not to have their merits wide unfurled, 
Or people should not know they 're in the 

world ! 
No petty charity he ever does, 
But by his care it through the papers goes ; 
And, like small men, the knave, with cunning 

tact, 
Supplies the want of stamina and fact. 

You soon, if demagogue, should understand, 
To always have your name and self on hand ; 
Your great love for the people oft parade, 
And what great cares for them your sleep in- 
vade ; 



PORTRAIT OF A POLITICIAN. 355 

Prove how your services have been their gain, 
And how your views have true prediction been. 
To change like Proteus or chameleon learn, 
From side to side, with every tinge and turn ; 
But if the people's hobby you can climb, 
Then turn fanatic, — ride it all the time ! 
For no gold mine such paying veins e'er had, 
As the dear people where they've once run mad. 
Show not yourself too often on the street, 
But greet all dirty rascals then you meet ; 
Though fools, and knaves, and sycophants 

compose 
Of human kind at least the half or gross, 
Such still is their egregious vanity, 
The vilest scoundrels would respected be. 
Let friends and journals ever sound your praise, 
And tell how much you 'd rather spend your 

days 
In sweet retirement, than an office hold ; 
But that you 'd keep the wolves outside the fold, 
And sympathize deep in the people's woes — 



356 PORTRAIT OF A POLITICIAN. 

Against the leaders of your party foes ! 

Thus keep yourself in people's eye and breath, — 

To be forgotten is the same as death ! 

But when you 're high in office, and secure, 
Then place a gang of beadles at your door, 

Like dish-faced H , and by sent cards 

Determine all your actions and regards. 
Put on an aureole of the sweetest love 
To who can give you still a higher shove ; 
But Wolsey's " lofty and sour," where no gains 
Can follow favor, courtesy, or pains : 
All men are ciphers who are such to you, 
And should be spurned like spaniels from 
your view ! 

Such policy might well have served our knight, 
Had fewer veterans mingled in the fight : 
But to succeed is not an easy thing, 
Where most are sharpers that make up " the 
ring"; 



PORTRAIT OF A POLITICIAN. 357 

Where from all parts for strife together come 
Who oft in hard fields victors were at home, — - 
A trained and practised gladiatorial band, 
Who each would win the honors of the land. 
Mastiffs at one another fly most fierce 
When hunger pinches, and the bones grow 

scarce ; 
Gamblers on outside nabobs prey with ease, 
But 'mongst themselves the great devour the 

less. 

Life is a constant battle with us all, 
And e'en the best may in the struggle fall : 
'T is parry, thrust, advance, retreat, embank, 
Scale, undermine, ditch, ambuscade, and flank ; 
Wake, watch, and plan, toil, sorrow, risk, and 

bleed, — 
To hold one's ground, or up to higher lead ; 
So when at last the joyful end we reach, 
But few are laurelled, most fell in the breach ! 



358 PORTRAIT OF A POLITICIAN. 

No wonder, then, one morning he surveyed 
A large white billet, on his table laid ; 
Which, opened, dazzled so his swimming gaze, 
He scarce could read, his flesh crept in amaze. 
" Your services will be dispensed with from 
The first of next month." What a horrid 
doom ! 

All day he walked about as zero light, — 
The very ground slipped alien from his sight ; 
But, rallying soon, he sought his friends, and 

then — 
Back to his socket soon was pushed again ! 
Thus gods of old, so ancient Homer saith, 
Saved their pet heroes in the nick of death. 
Oft foulest ends by fairest means are wrought, 
And friends that stop at right are deemed as 

naught ; 
The maiden's love and trust to ruin run, 
And royal crimes through gratitude are done. 



PORTRAIT OF A POLITICIAN. 359 

Now, when he saw himself again restored, 
To loftier heights of insolence he soared ; 
Plunged deeper far into all sins again, 
And gave all passions their unbridled reign. 
Bankrupt in money, character, and sense, 
He cares for neither law nor consequence ; 
Though still to outward show he pays respect, 
For dressing fine has surely its effect. 
A butterfly in fashion's sun and breeze, 
The wants of wintry age he never sees ; — 
Yet why should he be sedulous to save, 
Whose vices soon will take him to the grave. 

Ye gods of wrath ! if there is aught can rouse 
The dark detesting scorn to wring my brows, 
It is to see poor merit pushed aside, 
And those who might our blessing be and 

pride, 
To let some puffed-up, worthless scamp dis- 
grace 
Himself, his place, his country, and his race ! 



